She leaned a little towards him. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. 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. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. The longing to talk to someone! But in the end she had gone to her room without giving in to the craving. "But I am now coming to the point which most concerns you. White assured her. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers.
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