ABSTRACT
In the summer of 1941, a woman known today only as Mrs Giduz sat down to write a letter. Mrs Giduz, of Winchester, Massachusetts, was a proper person, and she ran a proper household. e Giduzes did not eat meat, and Mr Giduz was not allowed to smoke in the house, which meant that he was o en in the garden. He was therefore envious of their boarder, a thirty- ve-year-old refugee who had been placed with them on a language-learning venture. She, at least, was allowed to smoke in her room: which she did, like a factory.
