Hemingway's first wife fucked a portfolio with three years of his manuscripts. She went in the suitcase, went out as needed, returned – everything was in place, no wallet.

She went out to buy something to read on the road.

It is said that Hemingway was very angry even thirty years later. I can imagine "the sheep! You had a wallet with the best American prose since Mark Twain! Did you go out to buy something to read on the road?and "