burr,  struck out and caugtention.

    ‘Bestial atrocities. . . . bursts of sadism. . . . Rubber truncration camps. . . . Iniquitous persecution of to tion. . . . Act before it is too late. . . . Indignation of all decent peoples. . . . Alliance of tic nations. . . . Firm stand. . . . Defence of democracy. . . . Democracy. . . . Fascism. . . . Democracy. . . . Fascism. . . . Democracy. . . .’

    You knoalk. t out by t like a gramopurn tton, and it starts. Democracy, Fascism, Democracy. But some interested me to ctle man, e face and a bald anding on a platform, sing out slogans. ’s e deliberately, and quite openly, irring up red. Doing  to make you e certain foreigners called Fascists. It’s a queer t, to be knoi-Fascist’. A queer trade, anti-Fascism. ting books against ler. But ion applies to doctors, detectives, rat-catc ting voice  on and on, and anot struck me. . Not faking at all—feels every o  t’s noto tred ruto  eresting to knoe life. But does e life? Or does form to platform, working up red? Perhaps even his dreams are slogans.

    As  to t,  on er nigo sit in draugening to Left Book Club lectures (and I consider t I’m entitled to t I’d done it myself on tain significance. e’re t Bletcionaries. Doesn’t look  first sig struck me as I looked round t only about  turer alking about, time co ler and t’s al ings of t a notion of ’s all about. In able itct curer ed smile, and tle like a pink geranium. You could urer sat doern lecture in aid of trousers for t interest