ourneys, tco you’d never imes. tly bed-and-breakfast s ally of slops and t breakfast  you’re aling, middle-aged faten overcoats and bo sooner or later trade urn to five quid a raipsing from so ss   to listen, and tanding back and making yourself small  t it icularly. to some c kind of life is torture. t even o a s screop. But I’m not like t. I’m tougalk people into buying t , and even if t doesn’t botually o making a bit of doug of it. I don’t kno I unlearned a good deal. It knocked t of me, and it drove into tions t I’d picked up during t tective stories, all time I  a ies of modern life. And ies of modern life? ell, ting, frantic struggle to sell t people it takes t’s to say, getting a job and keeping it. I suppose t been a single montrade you care to name, in ’s brougly feeling into life. It’s like on a sinking seen survivors and fourteen lifebelts. But is ticularly modern in t, you say?  anyto do  feels as if it  feeling t you’ve got to be everlastingly figling, t you’ll never get anyt from somebody else, t ter your job, t monter taff and it’s you t’ll get t, I s exist in the war.

    But mean and I’d still got plenty of money in t sooner or later I’d get a regular job. And sure enouger about a year, by a stroke of luck it roke of luck, but t is t I o fall on my feet. I’m not type t starves. I’m about as likely to end up in to end up in type, type t gravitates by a kind of natural lao all I’ll back myself to get one.

    It ypeer ribbons. I’d just dodged into a  Str