ABSTRACT
I have two memories of Mr. Gandhi. The first is of a night in November 1931, when he stayed at my house during a visit to England, at the time of the Round Table Conference. The second is of a sunny morning in the middle of December 1937, when I was driven by an Indian friend to call on him at a villa by the sea, a little to the north of Bombay, where he was recuperating from an illness under the rustle of tall palm trees.
