Under normal circumstances, reading other people’s mail is pretty enjoyable, but when the correspondents are professional writers, it’s downright thrilling…. [T]he modern writer kvetching about a deadline has nothing on Conrad: “The other day in a moment of mental aberration I allowed myself to be pinned down to a date by a wild (but amiable) American publisher. He’s gone back, whooping, to his native wilderness of skyscrapers with the signed contract at his belt — and I wish it had been my scalp rather.”
Mr. Maud and I visited once with a friend who lived in Philly. Probably the best $8 I spent that year.