ngely with apprehension, almost with pain, certainly with anger and
regrets, with aspects unaccountably sad. I witnessed many incidents I am
tempted to record, but events passed so quickly, and I do not wish to
generalize rashly. One thing I noticed was the great number of women and
girl smokers. The woman without a cigarette was almost the exception.
There was no attempt at concealment. But what impressed me was the way
of holding and smoking the cigarette with an awkwardness that proclaimed
the novice. Quite plainly the majority of these girls were smoking not
at all because they desired to smoke, but for a lark. A little thing,
you will say, very harmless, and possibly you are right, and yet it is
the straw which reveals the direction of the wind.

In all the riotous merriment there seemed to lurk the urgency of
unsatisfied wants. These instabilities and shadows did not darken the
whole prospect, it may be that they intensified the pageant; London was,
indeed, very wonderful that evening. Yet all the foolish and ugly
incidents, petty and grave alike, of which I could not fail to be aware,
came to me with an effort of challenge as something not to be ignored,
but steadily to be inquired into, as an imperative call for effort and
courage, a spur once again to take up my pen and write to warn women.

My thoughts turned back over the last long four-and-a-half years--years
of struggle, of violent disorders, anxiety and pain. That time was
finished. Thanks to our dead! Honor to our great dead! The spectacle
before me became wider and richer and deeper, more charged with hope and
promise....

Bang! Laughter and harsh screaming as a rocket shot up starring the dark
evening heavens with its clustering balls of colors. In many parts of
the city, long obscured, lamps were lighted; row upon row of little
electric globes of white and red and blue appeared, and the unaccustomed
blaze infected the revelers. It gave a fresh impetus to shouting; it was
like removing the curtain from some great, long-darkened mirror. The fun
grew boisterous. At this corner there were cheers for the Prime
Minister, at the next for Foch and Haig, and Beatty and the Grand Fleet,
and for France and America. Numbers did not know what exactly they
cheered; it did not matter, it gave an excuse for noise. Much noise was
needed to keep up the revel and convince everyone that everybody was
happy.

Unceasingly the violent merry-making went on. Hoot! and an im