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. I must leave England to-night. "Miss Enschede—such an odd name!—are you French?" "Oh, no. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. Life is morality—life is adventure.
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