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. “But I am sorry,” she exclaimed. "Is it wrong, then, to surrender to good impulses?" "In the present instance, yes. I presume that you have been living alone?” She sighed gently. " "Oh Heavens!" cried Jack, driven to his wits' end. " "So you think," muttered Jack, between his ground teeth. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest.
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