“I think back to my banter with Cash about sexual harassment. I don’t doubt he pushes the boundaries, but never once did I get the impression he might force himself on me or make unwanted advances. I just hope to God he doesn’t know that his advances aren’t unwanted. I just wish they were.”

“He clenched his jaw and forced himself to even his tone. "No' necessarily. It's just that you'll be doing it three or four times a day.""With a man of your advanced years?"Advanced years? By God, I am going to throttle her.”

“Audition? What did you have in mind?”He laughs. “Nothing too creative. I don’t want to push my luck with the sexual harassment thing. Yet.”

“We’ve all done stuff we aren’t proud of. If you knew…” He shook his head. “The pointis, I don’t know why you did this. I just hope that whatever the reason was, it’s something that you’ve come to terms with. I don’t think any less of you because of it. I never did.”

“I grip him. "Don’t leave me."He kisses my lips, "Never again. This isn’t me leaving you. This is me choosing you." He throws my words back at me.He kisses me once more and then pushes off. He leaves and doesn’t look back. I fight the urge to run after him.”

“I should begin at the beginning. I know that. But the trouble is that I don’t know the beginning. I wish I did. I do know my name, Arthur Hobhouse. Arthur Hobhouse had a beginning, that’s for certain. I had a father and a mother too, but God only knows who they were, and maybe even he doesn’t know for sure. I mean, God can’t be looking everywhere all at once, can he? So where the name Arthur Hobhouse comes from and who gave it to me I have no idea. I don’t even know if it’s my real name. I don’t know the date and place of my birth either, only that it was probably in Bermondsey, London, sometime in about 1940.”