Unless You Are Good At Guessing, It

I Looked At Her. Sheila Was My Girl--the Girl I Wanted--and Wanted For Keeps. But It Wasn't Any Use Having Illusions About Her. Sheila Was A Liar And Probably Always Would Be A Liar. It Was Her Way Of Fighting For Survival--the Quick Easy Glib Denial. It Was A Child's Weapon--and She'd Probably Never Got Out Of Using It. If I Wanted Sheila, I Must Accept Her As She Was--be At Hand To Prop Up The Weak Places. We've All Got Our Weak Places. Mine Were Different From Sheila's, But They Were There.

I Often Wonder Why The Whole World Is So Prone To Generalise. Generalisations Are Seldom If Ever True And Are Usually Utterly Inaccurate.

Now I Am Old-fashioned. A Woman, I Consider, Should Be Womanly. I Have No Patience With The Modern Neurotic Girl Who Jazzes From Morning To Night, Smokes Like A Chimney, And Uses Language Which Would Make A Billingsgate Fishwoman Blush!

Nurses - Nurses, You'm All The Same. Full Of Cheerfulness Over Other People's Troubles.

No Sign, So Far, Of Anything Sinister—but I Live In Hope.