So Evelyn Waugh wrote to his friend, the poet and critic John Betjeman, in May 1945. He had just published his seventh novel, Brideshead Revisited, and it was showing distinct signs of becoming a runaway success. While his previous books had all been critically acclaimed and commercial hits, Brideshead would be the novel of his that finally established him as a major writer in America, being a runaway bestseller that would make him an extremely wealthy man. All his life, he, the middle-class son of a publisher, had dreamt of being accepted on equal terms by an aristocracy that he equally venerated and despised. Now, at last, he had fulfilled his goal, even if it had been brought about by American dollars, rather than English guineas.