Lunched with Mr. and Mrs. Whigham. He is the editor of TOWN AND
COUNTRY and is a Scotchman. It was one of the nicest parties I’ve
been to, absolutely after my own heart. I sat next to Jo Davidson, whom
I’d wanted to meet, Mrs. Whitney was there, and McEvoy and Mr. Harrison
Rhodes and Guardiabassé, the singer and painter. All were people who do
things.
Mr. Davidson astonished me. I had expected someone very American,
but he looks like a black-bearded Bolshevik, speaks French like a
Frenchman, and speaks it preferably, and has lived for years in Moscow.
He is just a typical international. He has a keen sense of humor,
cosmopolitan manners, and the American quick grasp of things. I found
myself talking to him as if we had known each other all our lives. He
said laughingly that he had read my diary in the TIMES and
had hated me from that moment. Hated me for having done this thing! He
said of course he would have done it if the chance had come his way,
but we agreed that it was a woman’s chance. Trotzky never would have
been good with anyone but me! We think we’ll go back there together,
hand in hand.
I went away with McEvoy, and on the way down in the lift he said, “What
a nice party that was, quite like England!” I agreed, and the half
suppressed giggle of the lift boy roused me to add for his benefit that
we meant it as a compliment. I wonder if the lift boy by any chance was
Irish!