A little of his pleasure was in the anticipation of seeing Southern Italy in bloom, now that spring is there. But George had a cold. He went to the Moses Taylor hospital. Next week when the great ship docks in Southern Italy, perhaps the sun will be gildening, there will be color and laughter at the dock, for the Italians are a happy race; but George will not be there.

And finally, Jimi Hendrix and the Band of Gypsies – or Gypsy Sun and Rainbows – play their first-ever show, for two hours, and it is blindingly great.

The conventions include […] impossibly complicated interrelationships (most characters in soapies are either related or married or have slept together, and in celebrated instances, all three).

They often murmur to themselves, they speak To one another seldom, for their woe Broods maddening inwardly and scorns to wreak Itself abroad; and if at whiles it grow To frenzy which must rave, none heeds the clamour, Unless there waits some victim of like glamour, To rave in turn, who lends attentive show.