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. The fever came. I must break open the door. “Some day,” she answered. He has been bottling it up all the way from West Kensington. I’ve got to stay at home and remain in a state of suspended animation. Scarcely any one noticed the full measure of her consternation.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 24-09-2024 08:57:53