‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. Later, when the Reverend Henry Dolby entered the Spurlock room, his wife and daughter trailing amusedly behind him, and beheld the strained eagerness on the two young faces, he smiled inwardly and indulgently. It was Missy and Michelle in her grandmother's old Buick. 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. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar.
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