Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. 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. ’ ‘Let’s. ” “I ought to have—all the same. Jackson: "ha! ha!" "Not in the least, Ma'am," echoed Mr. . From the unlovely hillside his glance strayed to the several five-story towers of the pawnshops. Occasionally he relit his pipe.
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