Kim, or whatever her name is, had to choose between Marcello Cavalcanti, the tragic-minded Italian Kierkegaard scholar with the strange sexual appetites, and the ambitious so-and-so -- who asked her to type his book for him. Well it didn't go exactly like that. How did they do it, anyway, back in those days, when wives typed for their husbands? The man just asked and the woman said OK, or the woman offered? No, then as now there was a good deal of passive aggression involved. It starts with "I don't know how I'm going to get this typed."