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She ran from the knave into the women’s quarters. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. She turned back to Gerald, holding out her hand. He was a shy boy outwardly but she knew him better in his thoughts, in which perhaps she had already taken upon the role of lover. He saw that his words were falling upon dull ears. 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. I speak frankly, because you also know that no possible extremity would induce me to accept help from any living person.
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