"I was," was the cool retort. "I thought you were going to be a Red Cross nurse and go to war."
Carol blushed a little. "I was," she assented, "but there isn't any war."
"Well," even in triumph, Connie was imperturbable, "there isn't any father for my eleven children either."
The twins had to admit that this was an obstacle, and they yielded gracefully.
"But an author, Connie," said Lark. "It's very hard. I gave it up long ago."
"I know you did. But I don't give up very easily."
"You gave up your eleven children."
"Oh, I've plenty of time for them yet, when I find a father for them. Yes, I'm going to be an author."
"Can you write?"
"Of course I can write."