He subjected me there to great annoyance by claiming me as his wife. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked. 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 was chaffing him about being taken for Meysey Hill, and suggested that he should be presented to me as the millionaire. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. He took about five minutes.
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