“Do you know Portofino?” the Frenchman said.

I shall have Beauty underground.
Poppæa was once in my tumbrel, you see.
So were blithe Helen and white Iope

La Consula was a big white house with Doric columns along the front. It sat in a park on the road between Churriana and Alhaurin de la Torre, near the Malaga airport

There was a Rembrandt drawing of a lion above Sabina’s bed. When Francesca sleeps there, the lion looks down on Rose White and Briar Rose Slumbering, or some such scene by Burne-Jones. By day the Rembrandt lion

I was almost fifteen. I was working at my first real job at a place called the Spudnut Shop, a doughnut store, in Union Gap, Washington, June of 1955. This very good looking young man walked in with