sitting behind a desk,wearing a business suit and looking pre-eminently prosperous,rosy and agreeable. Here again,it is probably hindsight on my part that points out that in the portrait there is evident also some uneasiness,some lack of faith the man has in this role,a tendency he has to spread himself too bountifully and insistently,which for all anyone knows may lead to disaster. Para.14:Never mind the Malleys.As soon as I saw that office,I wanted it.It was larger than I needed,being divided in such a way that it would be suitable for a doctor's office.(We had a chiropractor in here but he left,says Mrs.Malley in her regretful but uninformative way.)The walls were cold and bare, white with a little grey,to cut the glare for the eyes.Since there were no doctors in evidence,nor had been, as Mrs.Malley freely told me,for some time,I offered twenty-five dollars a month.She said she would have to speak to her husband. Para.15:The next time I came my offer was agreed upon,and I met Mr.Malley in the flesh.I explained,as I had already done to his wife,that I did not want to make use of my office during regular business hours,but during the weekends and sometimes in the evening.He asked me what I would use it for,and I told him,not without wondering first whether I ought to say I did stenography. Para.16:He absorbed the information with good humour."Ah,you're a writer." Para.17:"Well yes.I write." Para.18:"Then we'll do our best to see you're comfortable here,"he said expansively."I'm a great man for hobbies myself.All these ship-models,I do them in my spare time,they're a blessing for the nerves.People need an occupation for their nerves.I daresay you're the same." Para.19:"Something the same,"I said,resolutely agreeable,even relieved that he saw my behaviour in this hazy and tolerant light.At least he did not ask me,as I half-expected,who was looking after the children,and did my husband approve?Ten years,maybe fifteen,had greatly softened,spread and defeated the man in the picture.His hips and thighs had now a startling accumulation of fat,causing him to move with a sigh,a cushiony settling of flesh,a ponderous matriarchal discomfort.His hair and eyes had faded, his features blurred,and the affable,predatory expression had collapsed into one of troubling humility and chronic mistrust.I did not look at him.I had not planned,in taking an office,to take on the responsibility of knowing any more human beings Para.20:On the weekend I moved in,without the help of my family,who would have been kind.I brought my typewriter and a card table and chair,also a little wooden table on which I set a hot plate,a kettle,a jar of instant coffee,a spoon and a yellow mug.That was all.I brooded with satisfaction on the bareness of my walls,the cheap dignity of my essential furnishings,the remarkable lack of things to dust, wash or polish. Para.21:The sight was not so pleasing to Mr.Malley.He knocked on my door soon after I was settled and said that he wanted to explain a few things to me-about unscrewing the light in the outer room, which I would not need,about the radiator and how to work the awning outside the window.He looked around at everything with gloom and mystification and said it was an awfully uncomfortable place for a lady Para.22:"It's perfectly all right for me,"I said,not as discouragingly as I would have liked to, 33 sitting behind a desk, wearing a business suit and looking pre-eminently prosperous, rosy and agreeable. Here again, it is probably hindsight on my part that points out that in the portrait there is evident also some uneasiness, some lack of faith the man has in this role, a tendency he has to spread himself too bountifully and insistently, which for all anyone knows may lead to disaster. Para.14: Never mind the Malleys. As soon as I saw that office, I wanted it. It was larger than I needed, being divided in such a way that it would be suitable for a doctor’s office. (We had a chiropractor in here but he left, says Mrs. Malley in her regretful but uninformative way.) The walls were cold and bare, white with a little grey, to cut the glare for the eyes. Since there were no doctors in evidence, nor had been, as Mrs. Malley freely told me, for some time, I offered twenty-five dollars a month. She said she would have to speak to her husband. Para.15: The next time I came my offer was agreed upon, and I met Mr. Malley in the flesh. I explained, as I had already done to his wife, that I did not want to make use of my office during regular business hours, but during the weekends and sometimes in the evening. He asked me what I would use it for, and I told him, not without wondering first whether I ought to say I did stenography. Para.16: He absorbed the information with good humour. “Ah, you’re a writer.” Para.17: “Well yes. I write.” Para.18: “Then we’ll do our best to see you’re comfortable here,” he said expansively. “I’m a great man for hobbies myself. All these ship- models, I do them in my spare time, they’re a blessing for the nerves. People need an occupation for their nerves. I daresay you’re the same.” Para.19: “Something the same,” I said, resolutely agreeable, even relieved that he saw my behaviour in this hazy and tolerant light. At least he did not ask me, as I half-expected, who was looking after the children, and did my husband approve? Ten years, maybe fifteen, had greatly softened, spread and defeated the man in the picture. His hips and thighs had now a startling accumulation of fat, causing him to move with a sigh, a cushiony settling of flesh, a ponderous matriarchal discomfort. His hair and eyes had faded, his features blurred, and the affable, predatory expression had collapsed into one of troubling humility and chronic mistrust. I did not look at him. I had not planned, in taking an office, to take on the responsibility of knowing any more human beings. Para.20: On the weekend I moved in, without the help of my family, who would have been kind. I brought my typewriter and a card table and chair, also a little wooden table on which I set a hot plate, a kettle, a jar of instant coffee, a spoon and a yellow mug. That was all. I brooded with satisfaction on the bareness of my walls, the cheap dignity of my essential furnishings, the remarkable lack of things to dust, wash or polish. Para.21: The sight was not so pleasing to Mr. Malley. He knocked on my door soon after I was settled and said that he wanted to explain a few things to me—about unscrewing the light in the outer room, which I would not need, about the radiator and how to work the awning outside the window. He looked around at everything with gloom and mystification and said it was an awfully uncomfortable place for a lady. Para.22: “It’s perfectly all right for me,” I said, not as discouragingly as I would have liked to