ny Gayley and her daughter Rano were living with me at this time, so during dinner and the evening we were told all about Shri Meher Baba, the Perfect Master. My dear Master, Abdul Baba, had died. This was the third time I had heard about Shri Meher Baba. T.* left a small photograph of Baba with me and promised he would do what he could to arrange a meeting if Shri Meher Baba came again to Europe.

Time passed and I heard nothing more; but I received a letter from a woman who had previously sublet my apartment, asking if she might have it for the month of July. I stopped with a friend whilst trying to decide what I had better do during this month, when a letter came from T. telling me that Baba had arrived and was in Portofino, Italy, and that I was to come quickly. It all became very clear why my apartment had been rented, for it gave me the wherewithal to go quickly, otherwise I would have had to borrow.

I arrived in Portofino, July 8th, 1933, and was met by T. and M., who had found a room for me in the village. I shall always be deeply grateful to T., for he did not forget his promise, which has made him indirectly responsible for my great happiness.

Baba was in Rome, but was returning to Portofino that night. Next morning, July 9th, T. came to fetch me. The house where Baba was staying was on a high hill overlooking the Mediterranean and surrounded by a beautiful park. The moment we entered the gate I began to cry and it became worse as we climbed the hill. I was thoroughly ashamed of this behaviour, especially as I looked a sight and could not stop crying. By the time we reached the house, I was in a dreadful state. T. brought me a glass of water, but nothing helped and then the door opened and Baba stood there . . .

I cannot remember what I did—I know that I looked and looked. It was probably only for a moment, but it seemed to me as if I had been looking for ages, and then I put my hands over my face and cried more than ever. I shall never forget the kind and gentle way in which Baba led me to a sofa and made me sit beside him and patted my hand. Through my sobs I tried to tell him how sorry I was that I could not stop crying. He spelled out on his board to T.: "Tell her it is just as it should be." I had a great fear that he might send me away, so I asked if I was to be sent away, but my beloved Baba shook his head, NO. I was then told to come to the garden every

"T." is Quentin Tod-webmaster JK