The Ragged Edge. “I see the difficulty. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. So she approached him with sandwiches. Annabel is my only sister, you know, almost my only relative. Why, he can scarcely be twenty. At present the world waits for that writer, and the confused record of the newspapers remains the only resource of the curious. He handed her a cheque for thirty-one pounds, ten shillings, and read the agreement through to her. 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 will go, if you will consent to meet me at midnight near the old house in Wych Street," replied Jack.
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