Anyhow we took the place and we settled in it as best we could. Of course my father, my mother and my brother became our frequent visitors. My sister came to live with us so that my wife would not be too lonely when I was out during business hours. We were in a Greek section and not one of the best. A lady alone may be quite safe in Stamboul or even in a lonely house in the suburbs. But in Pera, in the midst of the riff-raff, it is not quite safe to leave her alone even during the day. My sister is about the same age as my wife and speaks fluently English, French, Italian, German and of course Turkish. This knowledge of foreign languages is not extraordinary in Turkey where everybody speaks at least three or four. But it made her very useful until my wife could pick up Turkish. It interested me beyond words to see how easy, after all, it is to establish good understanding between two people of a certain education, no matter how far apart their racial origins may be, no matter how little each one knows of the other's customs, breeding and upbringing. Language is enough to avoid serious misunderstanding, personal contact is enough to bridge any previous misconception. Here was my wife, born in New Orleans and bred in New York, who had never before been out of America, and my sister, born and bred in Turkey. The only apparent point in common between the two was that one had married the brother of the other. But between the two developed a friendship and devotion which can be built up only upon good understanding, irrespective of any legal bonds. We were leading a very retired life at the time and the two girls were thrown entirely upon their own resources. The prevailing political conditions would have made it disagreeable and at times even unsafe to go out extensively. The city was full of British and French colonial troops--mostly Australians and Senegalese. While outwardly everything seemed calm and quiet, a sense of impending tragedy hung in the air. Vague rumors of riots and risings, reports of atrocities committed by colonial troops were circulating from mouth to mouth. Turkish newspapers appeared every morning heavily censored: nearly one blank column out of every four. A general and indefinable uneasiness prevailed. Under the circumstances we did as other Turkish families; we led a retired life, sufficient unto ourselves, and sought our distractions in small every-day happenings. The local colour of the street we lived in, with its vendors, its Greek children playing on the sidewalks, the nearby open-air fish market, the milk man making his morning calls at the neighbouring houses and milking his goats on their doorsteps afforded us the greatest part of our distraction. We took advantage of this general lull of things to get our bearings and to become thoroughly acclimatized to our surroundings.