Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. 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. “They would spoil every chance. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. “You are an impostor. "But you mustn't indulge these gloomy thoughts. Gerald exchanged a puzzled glance with his friend. ” He looked at her with white, set face.
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