” His voice sounded muffled and heavy, as if he had gone to bed. They do a good job, huh?” He smiled at her. 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. Lucy sat paralyzed, as still as Tiger Lily on the death raft.
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