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. Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. “Really, daddy, I am sorry for all I have done to put you out. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them.
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