《行尸走肉》" 'All You Zombies—' " by Robert A. Heinlein(2)
I saw him relax that tiny amount they teach you to watch for in the Bureau's training school. "Sorry," I said. "Just asking, 'How's business?' Make it 'How's the weather?'"
He looked sour. "Business is okay. I write 'em, they print 'em, I eat."
I poured myself one, leaned toward him. "Matter of fact," I said, "you write a nice stick---I've sampled a few. You have an amazingly sure touch with the woman's angle."
It was a slip I had to risk; he never admitted what pen--names he used. But he was boiled enough to pick up only the last: "'Woman's angle!'" he repeated with a snort. "Yeah, I know the woman's angle. I should."
"So?" I said doubtfully. "Sisters?"
"No. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Now, now," I answered mildly, "bartenders and psychiatrists learn that nothing is stranger than truth. Why, son, if you heard the stories I do---well, you'd make yourself rich. Incredible."