“John, you were never bound to me, you don’t owe me anything. He found himself growing hoarse yelling over the music, but it also situated him to lean towards her to put his hand on her ear to aid her hearing. I'm not quite such a greenhorn as Shotbolt, Jack, whatever you may think. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. 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. Nothing at all. You have been to see your sister, of course. “You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand.
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