Silly Milly gave me a genuine reproduction crown derby moustache cup for my birthday when she was five. Four. I gave her the real imitation aberoid necklace she broke. Then we played pretend with the mail, me putting pieces of folded brown paper into the mailbox for her. Look Milly, you got a bona fide letter and I’d present her with the fake, and look here’s a forgery, and see Milly a fabrication, and this one’s for you a fiction, and here’s yours an invention, and what have we here the make believe, and for you an affectation, and look here’s your pretence, and Milly somebody sent you a fraud and a mock and a pseudo and here’s a counterfeit sham and an unreal inauthentic and oh how nice this one’s the implausible and here’s a subterfuge and a phony and a simulation and the simulacral just for you my darling. Oh she is my lookingglass from night to morning. We laughed when she found Mr Goodwin’s mirror in his hat, that polite old perve, bowing Molly off the stage. Look what I found! Pert little piece she was, sex breaking out even then.