Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery. One called her very distinctly “My dear!” Two secretarial posts did indeed seem to offer themselves in which, at least, there was no specific exclusion of womanhood; one was under a Radical Member of Parliament, and the other under a Harley Street doctor, and both men declined her proffered services with the utmost civility and admiration and terror. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. But this only incensed the assailing party the more. He stood up and she ushered him out of the small room. She seemed to assume that it must certainly be something she had said. “I WILL be arrested! I WON’T go home!” the little old lady was screaming over and over again.
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