The Devon Place Hotel may be the best in Karachi, but it is pretty bad, I am told that all Indian hotels are bad–still, the breakfast was a considerable improvement on the Marie Valerie, and we sallied forth as giants refreshed to have a look at Karachi and do a little shopping. It being Sunday, the banks were closed, but a kindly shopman cashed me a cheque for twenty pounds in the most confiding manner, and enabled us to get the few odds and ends we wanted before going up country–among them a couple of resais or quilted cotton wraps and a sola topee for Jane.