"I get the picture of both of them," he nodded.
"Can I write?" she demanded bluntly.
"How long have you been working at that desk?"
"Five years."
She drew a big packing box from under the bed. It was full of manuscripts. He looked at it with deep interest.
"You've told nobody, offered nothing for sale in those years?"
"Not since my first editor, who gave me such good advice."
"It is incredible."
"Is the time wasted?" she asked.
"No. Work is never wasted, and of course you are destined to write."