I USED to read quite a lot of books when I was younger, but now they just make me sore. Marian keeps on bringing them back from the lending library and, occasionally, I’ll pick one up and read a few chapters, but sooner or later you’re bound to strike something that makes you sick. I don’t mean dirt or anything—just foolishness, and people acting the way they never act. Of course, the books she reads are mostly love stories. I suppose they’re the worst kind.
But what I understand least is the money angle. It takes money to get drunk and it takes money to go around with a girl—at least that’s been my experience. But the people in those books seem to have invented a special kind of money—it only gets spent on a party or a trip. The rest of the time they might as well be paying their bills w
