‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. 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. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. Stanley, at the door. I can't concentrate on my work. “Leave them!” He yelled. He gripped one of her pert nipples with his fingers as he came inside her.
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