In April 1935, Latham launched a three-month literary tour through the U.S. in search of new authors, starting in Georgia. He met Margaret at a luncheon in his honor at the Atlanta Athletic Club and asked if he could read her manuscript. She was flattered but knew the awful shape her manuscript was in. The yellow paper had faded, and there were many changes made in pencil. She had different versions of some chapters, and she hadn't even written an opening chapter. Embarrassed, she denied that she had anything to show him. He gave her other opportunities to share her work, and she refused to discuss it each time. But she did promise that he would be the first to look at it when she was ready to show it. She thought this was an unlikely possibility. But then something happened that changed her mind -and her life- forever. During the ride home from the teatime meeting, Margaret and a number of aspiring authors chatted about the evening's events and it was asked of Margaret why she hadn't given her book to Mr. Latham. She admitted that her writing wasn't any good and that she was ashamed of it. One of the writers remarked that she didn't think Margaret took life seriously enough to become a successful novelist, and found fault that the manuscript had never been rejected by a publisher. "I've been refused by the very best publishers. But my book is grand," she told Margaret. "Everybody says it will win the Pulitzer Prize. But, Peggy, I think you are wasting your time trying. You really aren't the type." Margaret became angry and stayed that way when she arrived home. She grabbed up what manuscript she could lay her hands on, forgetting the envelopes that were under the bed and in the pot-and-pan closet. She then went to the hotel and caught Latham just as he was about to leave to catch the train. Having no room in his bags, he bought an extra suitcase to carry the large pile of envelopes that Margaret gave him. When she cooled down Margare...
