She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. ‘Don’t want it to break out bleeding again. She had heard of women journalists, women writers, and so forth; but she was not even admitted to the presence of the editors she demanded to see, and by no means sure that if she had been she could have done any work they might have given her. Now he courted with “servants” which he often killed afterward. ” She paused. ” Pause. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. His analytical bent saved him many times, though he was not sensitive to this.
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