It was 20 years ago and I lived in Paris. I earned very little and could keep hardly body and soul together. One of my readers, a lady wrote to me about one of my books she had read. She asked me if I would give her a little luncheon. I answered that I would meet her at the restaurant on Thursday 11.30. The next day when she came I was waiting for her for an hour. She was a woman of forty and not very attractive. When the waiter brought the menu, she said: "I never eat many things. I eat only one thing, a little fish, perhaps."
