The life of a girl presented itself to her as something happy and heedless and unthinking, yet really guided and controlled by others, and going on amidst unsuspected screens and concealments. Nothing but the constraint of social usage now linked him to her. E. You don't want me to spoil the story, do you?" "No. I want to hear how she does it. 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. " "We'll be waiting for you.
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