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. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. . But it would be too risky. We went our ways.
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