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February 26, 1942

Zenia, my nurse friend from India, went outside on a pass, and she spent the night at my apartment.

How happy we were to see her the next day, for she had brought us the money we had stored in the water tank and in the hanging air-plants.

I was too weak to nurse, but not too weak to spend most of the morning chasing bedbugs and cleaning my boudoir.

It was whispered that every room had an ear. A few minutes ago Margo pointed out a middle-aged American woman of German descent in my room. The woman had supposedly been on the G2 list of the U. S. Army before the war. As I looked at the woman’s kindly and pleasant features, I thought, just as in a whodunit, that she would have been the last one I would have suspected.