“But how can you?” asked Constance. A good woman’s mind has angels with flaming swords at the portals to keep out fallen thoughts. 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. ” She said, studying his face, which seemed to lose its childishness a little more with each day. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother.
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