There are boats on the lake and shady depths and wildernesses of pine-wood. Frequently she would doze in her chair; but the slightest movement on the bed aroused her. Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly. 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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