leg or something. Then Audrey's dearly beloved obligingly left town to manage their farm and you can't imagine how quickly she forgot all about him. In fact, if he never came back, it would be too soon..

So now everything is sheer heaven for awhile-and it is in this part of the book that its autobiographical nature becomes apparent because nobody, but nobody, could describe with such authenticity (and longing) the joy of such a love without having had experienced it. There are passages here that are truly moving, and so honest it is almost possible to forgive the author for the hypocricy that follows. Almost, but not quite.

Then the disillusionment begins. Audrey discovers (because Kim seems to enjoy torturing her by talking about them) that, like the sailors, Kim has a girl in every port and has no intention of relinquishing any of them, much less her husband, who furnishes a very convenient screen for her amoral activities. Our Audrey, who has fallen hook, line, sinker and rowboat, and would count the world well lost for Kim (there's sincerity here), is crushed, of course, when Kim refuses to chuck everything and everybody so they can walk hand in hand into the sunset. This kid really wanted egg in her beer. And she's even more upset by the cooling of Kim's ardor now that the bet has been won.

So there is a great deal of pathos as Audrey tries to recapture the past, fails, and finally the whole thing disintegrates in a very messy scene that somehow doesn't ring true. I think the author plucked that scene out of "Well of Loneliness." Then Audrey has a mental collapse and spends some time in an institution. All very sad. When she comes out, hubby is waiting with open arms (he knows the whole story and wants her back anyway-I told you he was a doll) but she will have no part of him. It's Kim or nobody. And Kim, that heartless wretch, couldn't care less. So her life is ruined (forever!) and it's all Kim's fault and Kim is a lesbian (of course our Audrey isn't!). So all lesbians are monsters, preying on poor innocent, helpless women like herself, and therefore should be erased from the face of the earth. Logical? The rental library crowd will think so; they will start crossing the street when they see a woman in a tailored suit.

But the strange thing is, the author almost succeeds in defeating her own purpose, for even in her most venomous tirades against lesbians (as a species) you know she really doesn't believe a word of it-that she'd give her proverbial eyeteeth to have Kim back (on her own terms, of course) and be one of them, she virtually admits it! And it is just such hypocrisy that makes the book so annoying. So she happened to get taken for a royal sleigh-ride-she isn't the first and she won't be the last. But to damn a group for the sins of one individual is a particularly vicious way to get even. I wonder if she really feels much satisfaction for having written that book? Somehow, I rather doubt it.

I would like to say just one thing to the author of "Loveliest of Friends," and that is it takes two to tango.

Marlin Prentiss

"Virtue consists in nothing but action in accordance with the laws of one's own nature."

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Ethics of Spinoza