Thumbs-up and a friendly smile from a stranger. The beginning of another travel-story:
‘I have been told of others like me, traveling to India. Now, in the first quarter of the year, a man who had been born and raised in England called in and was assigned a room in the “Munitions Factory.” Our hostess, Mrs. Primm, is not only an English lady but a member of the class that I have been describing before. She is a very fair-haired Englishwoman; about 5 feet 6 inches tall; of the same type as I described and who has the same taste in dress, and in conversation, as I have described. She did not find my account of the “Munitions Factory” of interest, as at home, and she invited me in her room that same night. We agreed to stay for a month if there was anything I wanted to see in India. She gave me tea, and, as she was accustomed to do occasionally, a small piece of ham. (I don’t know whether we ate ham.)
She had two daughters, aged twelve and eleven; one sister went to America, and my…
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