They had not proceeded far when a low moan was heard. “My word holds,” she said. “Let me get you some water, Annabel. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. Sheila was a stout woman, her bosoms huge, her face 110 wide and square. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. What he did not know was this: Ruth surrendered these little secrets because the doctor had warned her that the patient must be amused and interested. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. 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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