Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. 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 was tempted to touch him in the car as they drove to the empty house, but she refrained for fear of causing a car accident. Please to release me. Anyhow, she’s disappeared for some reason or other. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility.
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