"Address it to me, will you.

I assist him as much as I can." Joan added a few finishing touches that evening, and posted it; and a day or two later received a note asking her to call at the office.
"My sister is enthusiastic about your article on Chelsea Church and insists on my taking the whole series," Greyson informed her.

"She says you have the Stevensonian touch." Joan flushed with pleasure.
"And you," she asked, "did you think it had the Stevensonian touch ?" "No," he answered, "it seemed to me to have more of your touch." "What's that like ?" she demanded.
"They couldn't suppress you," he explained.

"Sir Thomas More with his head under his arm, bloody old Bluebeard, grim Queen Bess, snarling old Swift, Pope, Addison, Carlyle--the whole grisly crowd of them! I could see you holding your own against them all, explaining things to them, getting excited." He laughed.
His sister joined them, coming in from the next room.

She had a proposal to make.