At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. 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. " "Mr. A silver necklace enhanced the dusky beauty of her neck. " CHAPTER V. “What’s odd?” “Oh, everything!” She shivered, and went to the fire and poked it. Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him. She fought him with tooth and nail.
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