She slipped it calmly into her pocket. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. “John, of course I forgive you if it is what you need from me. She ran down alleyways and between buildings, faster than an Olympian, until she could hear his voice no more. She remembered the doctor's warning that the real battle would begin when the patient recovered consciousness. I am not of the canaille, but a bourgeois. 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.
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