The very first letter that Thomas wrote to Watkins, in April 1936, asked him whether he was “temporarily rich” and, if so, whether he would like to lend him a pound or two. “If you ever have 5 shillings that you hate,” he wrote to Watkins in August 1940, “I shan’t.” That year, he also wrote to say that he had not received two pounds (equivalent these days to more than $100) that Watkins had sent him by mail: “Sorry, very sorry, sorrier than I can tell you, about the death of the pounds.” Thomas was not to be trusted to tell the truth, however, for he once told A. J. P. Taylor that he had lost his return train ticket when he hadn’t, trying to extract money from him. In May 1941, Thomas wrote three times to Watkins. The first of the letters noted: “A little money has arrived for me since your last pound for the road; now that has gone. . . . [No cigarettes] now for days. I have taken to biting my nails, but they go down so quickly, and one has only 10.” In the next, Thomas complained, “The joke has gone too far. It isn’t fair to be penniless every morning. Every morning but one, okay; but no, every morning.” In the third letter, he says, “See if you can squeeze another drop from your borrowed-to-death body . . . . [H]ow vile I feel when I ask you again. Really vile. Weasels take off their hats as I stink by.” And so on.