There must be ways of getting rid of him. Wood, with a look meant to reduce her supposed rival to the dust. "No offence, I hope, my dear Mrs. 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. What is your father's business?" The question was an impertinence, but Ruth was not aware of that. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs.
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