It sounded thin to me.
“Hasn’t he got a copy of it?”
“No; it has not been typed. He is sending the manuscript just as he wrote it.”
“But he could write it over again.”
“As if he would have the energy!”
“But—”
“If you are going to do nothing but make absurd objections, Bertie—”
“I was only pointing things out.”
“Well, don’t! Once and for all, will you do me this quite simple act of kindness?”
The way she put it gave me an idea.
“Why not get Edwin to do it? Keep it in the family, kind of, don’t you know. Besides, it would be a boon to the kid.”
A jolly bright idea it seemed to me. Edwin was her young brother, who was spending his holidays at Easeby.