Mark stayed away from Lucy, which was just as Sheila liked it. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. 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. It was a moment of breathless interest to all engaged in the attempt. “Twenty-two. “You really couldn’t ride in it,” he said, deprecatingly. “A serious question.
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