I don't know if he was the fourth man or the fifth, but he was certainly in the top 10. 
The fathers, if they got me alone, would try to kiss and fondle me. I hated it.
They wanted to hear about the sex, of course. But not the rest; no one wanted to hear the rest.
It's been a misery for me, living with Christine Keeler.
I have survived and possibly I should not hope for more than that. 
He's 85 and he's met another woman. Still, at 85, why ever not? 
If I don't tell it all now, the story in the history books will always be imperfect and that would be wrong. 
Bill Astor knew these papers were missing. Stephen showed his hand in October. 
My mother used to go out on her own, and I used to have to keep a look out for my stepfather coming home. 
We knew we were talking about spies. I knew he knew I knew. I was digging my own grave. 
They came and bound me up and I had awful stretch marks. I hated my breasts after that. 
Discretion is the polite word for hypocrisy. 
As a little girl I used to daydream about my real father coming on a white horse to rescue me. 
However I dress it up, I was a spy and I am not proud of it. 
No one else knows the whole story. I was there. I lived through it. 
I never found anyone who was good enough, who I could trust enough. 
Men, all men, were always trying to get hold of me, you know. 