I began to wonder how it was that I had never heard of them.

And how on earth had they come to hear of me! "She must have read something of mine," I found myself musing: "the Jenkins story perhaps.

It must have been the Jenkins story; they gave it a good place in their rotten magazine.

She must have seen that it was the real thing, and...." When one is an author one looks at things in that way, you know.
By that time I was ready to knock at the door of the great Callan.

I seemed to be jerked into the commonplace medium of a great, great--oh, an infinitely great--novelist's home life.