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. ” “And I also,” Brendon echoed. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. But we've got to cook up some kind of a story to protect her. " "Could I credit your wild story, I might do so," returned Thames, with a look of perplexity. .
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