Leave Her to Heaven

I'm not a bit sleepy, are you?
Not in the least.
Have you forgiven me yet?
- What I said about your book.
- Oh, that.

I have a different opinion now.
I finished reading the book last night
and I found it quite absorbing.

What made you
change your mind?

I got interested
in one of the characters.

- Which one?
- The author.

Well, I assure you the book
is not supposed to be about me.

Oh, but it is,
whether you like it or not.

"Every book's a confession,"
my father always said.

- You have to read between the lines.
- And did you?

- Well, what sort of man am I?
- You're a bachelor.

Thirty years old.
You were born and raised in Boston...

... and you went to Harvard,
where you edited the Lampoon.

When you graduated, you went to Paris
and you studied painting for a while.

You have a lodge in Maine
called Back of the Moon.

Before you went in for writing novels,
you were a newspaper man.

Your favorite sport is fishing, and you
speak French and Spanish quite well.

Shades of Sherlock.
You got all that
just from reading my book?

Just from reading the dust jacket.
It was all there under your picture.

You know, if you'd lived in Salem
100 years ago, they'd have burned you.

Why did you give up painting?
Well, it was like this.
In the first place,
I discovered I was colorblind.

Since I was interested
in Post-Impressionism...

...that didn't matter, did it?
- No.

When I made the acquaintance
of the boys on the Left Bank...

...I found that they lived
in squalid garrets...

...and most of them
were miserably undernourished.

Have you ever known
what it was to be really hungry?

I'm hungry right now.
You must be.
You haven't had dinner, have you?

- Nor lunch.
- You poor thing, you must be famished.

Mrs. Robie told Emily
to leave you a tray.