In real life, I'm an innocent, a hull to be emptied to the keel - I skitter nervously in louche bars - I wear a cord jacket and canvas shoes -
But when, say, I'm whispering in Max de Freville's ear, or skulking in Venice with Fielding Gray, I'm wearing a Guard's tie and smoking a Macanudo -
The author is depicted on the dust jacket of An Inch of Fortune - there he is, as a young man, a Caraveggio angel - a larger photograph shows him as a middle aged voluptuary, eyes twinkling with wickedness -
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