11 FEBRUARY 1938, Page 11



WHEN she came home in the evening Norah would say : " Well, how have you got on today, Ducks— done much writing ? ". Taking off her hat and hanging it above her coat on the peg behind the door she would say it, and always Ducks—Ducks. I hated it ; hated her for saying it. For six weeks I had been living with her in her rather shabby flat, two rooms and a tiny kitchen. I slept on the settee in the living room, making up the bed each night. I knew it would not last for long. Knew I would not be able to stand it for long. Oh she was kind to me—too kind, butt felt dependent and she became possessive and I didn't want chat I didn't really want anybody. Everybody is kind, but they are always there, you can't get away. That's how Norah was, " Getting on all right, Ducks ? "

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