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I first met Harry Harrison in New York about forty years ago. He was an
illustrator then; later he became a writer and an editor. I was an
illustrator, writer and editor, and Harry bought my stories and I bought
his. I bought his illustrations, too, but he never bought mine, the
skunk.
When we had lunch in London a few years ago he looked just the
same, and so did Joan. Well, Harry had a grey beard and she didn't, but
you know what I mean. May they have many happies.
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