“I have just said so much.”
“How do you mean? Oh, John, will you write about me?”
“Perhaps.”
“Fancy me being in a book. Just think.”
“Would you like to be?”
“Of course I would. Father writes books too, only they never get written.”
“Does he put you in them?”
“Oh no, they are not that sort.”
“What sort are they?”
“I don’t know. But he’s always talking about his writing.” She paused. “John, you’ll make me the person your hero’s in love with, won’t you? and your hero’ll be you, I suppose?”