twelve o'clock on Monday
I 'm off ! J. _ Wednesday , more than midnight . _ DEAREST S. , I 'm a dying woman but my sketch is done ! I 've lived on board the typewriter since twelve o'clock on Monday , coming briefly ashore for a snatch of food or sleep , but it 's done and I adore it ! -LRB- Says the author , modestly . -RRB- The heavenly mad haste of the actual doing makes up for all the agonies of the start , restoring the years that the locusts have eaten . I 'll tell you all about it in the morning .