I had started across the street when I heard:
“Mr. Detweiler — Stewart?”
I turned to see her waving a manila envelope out the taxicab window.
“I know it’s not my turn yet, but I would be so so very appreciative if you’d give a quick look to these few pages of mine that I’ve written, and let me know if I’m on the right track?”
“I really shouldn’t,” I said, taking the envelope.
“I so appreciate it,” said Ashley Bridges.
I nodded, then ran to catch my train.
• •
Before submitting it to “Bitsy,” I had planned to spend a weekend or two putting the final polish on my novel. I spent two months. When waking was necessary — when not in the grip of insomnia — I woke up every morning at 4:30 to work on it. This was my big chance. I didn’t want to blow it.
For this version, I decided that
