Arthur Page took his father to Banff, in Scotland, for a little rest in preparation for the voyage. From this place came Page's last letter to his wife:
To Mrs. Page
Duff House, Banff, Scotland.
Sunday, September 2, 1918.
MY DEAR:
... I've put the period of our life in London, in my mind, as closed. That epoch is ended. And I am glad. It was time it ended. My job (that job) is done. From the letters that Shoecraft has sent me and from what the papers say, I think I couldn't have ended it more happily—or at a better time. I find myself thinking of the winter down South—of a Thanksgiving Day dinner for the older folks of our family, of a Christmas tree for the kids, of frolics of all sorts, of Rest, of some writing (perhaps not much), going over my papers with Ralph—that's what he wants, you know; etc., etc., etc.—
And I've got to eat more. I myself come into my thinking and planning in only two ways—(1) I'm going to have a suit like old Lord N.'s and (2) I'm going to get all the good things to eat that there are!
Meantime, my dear, how are you? Don't you let this getting ready wear you out. Let something go undone rather. Work Miss Latimer and the boys and the moving and packing men, and Petherick and the servants. Take it very easy yourself.
Nine and a half more days here—may they speed swiftly. Comfortable as I am, I'm mortal tired of being away from you—dead tired.
Praise God it's only 9-1/2 days. If it were 9-3/4, I should not stand it, but break for home prematurely.
Yours, dear Allie, with all my love,
W.H.P.
On August 24th came the President's reply: