Ah! My dear friend! In those pre war days the Riviera - that sea-lapped Paradise, with its clear, open sky and sapphire Mediterranean, grey green olives and tall ﬂowering aloes, its gorgeous blossoms, 'and its merry, dark-eyed populace who lived with no thought of the morrow - was, indeed, the playground of Europe.
And, let me whisper it, I think I may venture to declare that few of its annual habitués enjoyed the life more than your dear old ink-stained self.
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