Mike chortled. 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. The less she lived, in fact, the better. Anna sprang lightly away across the street. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. I am sorry that I do not know any one in London. "Why you wouldn't stand in the way of his good fortune surely? I'll be a second father to him, I tell you. I want to give you time to think.
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