patted the dog's head and walked across to look through the windows at the park. . . . Then he quickly closed the curtains.

"You are very fortunate to have such a room. Servants in our house do not have such things as a fire and books to read. Tell me, can you read?"

"Yes" I nodded, "I learned some years ago, Sir."

Barry looked straight into my eyes and then sat down on the bed. "Feather mattress. By jiminy. You are most favored. Tell me Charles, why are you such a liar?"

At the mention of my name I jumped. "You know my name?" I asked incredulously.

Barry came round and warmed his hands by the fire. "Yes I know your name. I know all about your life here. And why you are forbidden to go out beyond the gates of the park. I know too that if you took off that shirt you'd have red marks still, to show the beating your father gave you some months ago."

I could say nothing. I just stood staring at Barry in amazement. Barry in turn laughed again.

"Poor Charles, how distressed you look. Don't worry; your secret is safe with me. I know all this and more only because I have a new tutor. But you will know who I mean when I say he came to us after being dismissed under mysterious circumstances. Mind you, the villagers believe that you are in London or somewhere else studying. But I knew the truth. When my father explained that the Squire had invited him to dine this evening, no power on earth could have stopped me from joining him."

I sat down rather weakly . . . so that was the answer . . . then perhaps Barry was . . I turned and asked, "how is Roger?"

Barry sat down beside me and put his arm around my shoulders. "He's very well and sends his love to you."

"Thank you Sir" I muttered.

"Sir

oh come now Charles, that little game is finished. My name is Barry, as you well know."

How long we sat and talked I cannot remember. But I do know now that at last the wall around my world is crumbling down.

BOOKS

A MOVEABLE FEAST by Ernest Hemingway. Scribner's, 1964.

Hemingway's violent anti-homosexual feelings are famous, and in this posthumous book which consists of reminisences of his Paris period in the 1920's, we find this:

"Miss Stein thought that I was too uneducated about sex and I must admit that I had certain prejudices against homosexuality since I knew its more primitive aspects. I knew it was why you carried a knife and would use it when you were in the company of tramps when you were a boy in the days when wolves was not a slang

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