"Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. 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. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. It was an odd room, used principally for the reception of guests and visiting dignitaries, packed from end to end with ill-assorted sofas and padded chairs.
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