She could not help herself. "I shall be back presently," replied Thames, evasively. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. But in a moment she believed she understood. 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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