Won’t you let me—can’t I be of any assistance?” He was obviously in earnest. That window there…. Of what was she thinking? She must rescue herself. you walking home?\" 3 She paused, stunned. They were enormously pleased with one another; they found each other beyond measure better than they had expected, if only because of the want of substance in mere expectation. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. 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 no longer there. I thought every one had heard about it.
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