In that week I felt like a limp rag, wrung out of energy and vitality. He had sapped every little ounce of life from me. My world lay in ruins. The world that I had preserved for so long. I'd been safe and secure. Nothing could have broken down the barrier.

I had my flat, my friends, my two months vacation abroad every year. Life was good. I had no emotional entanglements to trouble my mind or disturb my sleep. No one else to consider. I'd been free ...

By Friday I had decided he must go. He was making me feel old and ill. By watching him and listening to his chatter I realized that he'd done all those things I had longed to do and never had found the courage to carry out. He'd shown me the person I wished once long ago I could have been. Natural and unashamed. Indeed Raymond was and still is the most natural person I have ever met. He lived as his heart directed, ignoring the cruel gossips, not seeing the stares, uncaringly he travelled on from one day to the next, finding something to fascinate or interest him. He was never bored. He wouldn't let himself become bored. He feared old age because he said it brought boredom.

As I write this it seems so quiet here in the flat. Gone are the pullovers, shirts and socks, gone the smell of "Mugent". The bathroom no longer looks like a tornado had swept through it.

Last night as I walked into the hall I heard music and throwing my overcoat on to a chair I walked into the bedroom to find Raymond dancing to the transistor set. "Brian darling," he cooed swinging round and tiptoeing across to kiss me on the cheek. "Had a hard day?"

"Very. I think I'll go to bed early."

"I'm leaving tomorrow," he said, waltzing around the bed. "Going to Paris with Terry."

"Oh how nice," I replied with the sound of genuine relief in my voice. He turned and stared at me pausing in his wild dancing. A shadow crossed his beautiful face. Then he suddenly smiled, "You're not jealous, you couldn't care less could you?" His voice held amazement.

"No, not in the least," I said softly, "In fact Ray, I'm pleased."

His astonishment turned to anger. His bottom lip pouted sulkily. I could see that I had shaken him. I saw him fighting inside himself. He'd expected me to be upset, jealous. He'd wanted a scene. That would have pleased his vanity. He would have become in his own mind ten times more interesting and important. But I'd turned the tables on him. I'd stolen his play. I hadn't played his game properly.

He shrugged and went on dancing but I could see that the life had gone from his movements. He'd really had a glimpse of failure at last. Perhaps a glimpse of the future. Someone had actually acted against his rules. I knew then that he'd grown a little older in those few seconds.

This morning my guest departed, quietly and soberly dressed. He waved goodbye to me as I leaned out on the terrace. His face was pale and drawn. Sleep had been a little difficult for us both. I had lain thinking of our meetings in the past, wondering if indeed we'd meet again in strange circumstances.

Perhaps again we will pass like ships in the night.

If you haven't read ANOTHER COUNTRY by James Baldwin, then you won't understand why New Orleans banned it. Order it today. Send your name, address and $6.25 to Bookservice, 2256 Venice Blvd., Los Angeles 6, California. We will enclose a list of books currently available.

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