They hadn’t made a guy out of this one, though. They dress the girls up no end in some of these places, velvet tarns and all, making them proper guys. I handed my slip of paper to the usherette and said, “Back row, please,” because I like sitting far back and leaning my head against the board. I like that - proper baby I am for westerns - so I paid my one and twopence and went inside. They asked me if I’d like to go along, but somehow I didn’t fancy barging in, so instead of staying home alone after leaving the garage I went down to the picture palace and, taking a look at the poster, saw it was cowboy and Indian stuff - there was a picture of a cowboy sticking a knife into the Indian’s guts. The Thompsons had gone to see their married daughter up at Highgate. No, I was happy enough living with the Thompsons, carrying on much the same day after day, until that one night, when it happened. I was out in the Middle East, too, Port Said and that. I never had much use for girls, not even when I was doing my time in the Army. I like to get on with my job, and then when the day’s work’s over settle down to a paper and a smoke and a bit of music on the wireless, variety or something of the sort, and then turn in early. Source: Daphne Du Maurier, extract from ‘Kiss Me Again, Stranger’ in Kiss Me Again Stranger: A Collection of Eight Stories Long and Short (New York: Doubleday, 1953 ), pp.
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