"You see," as she explained to them gently, "I lost my nerve—that's all. If I hadn't sent the stuff, it would have been all right, later, I suppose. But I did send it, and I thought it was O.K., and if it was as rotten as you said, why, how could I ever tell, again? Anyway, I'm tired."
They protested, but the City Editor shook his head.
"Let her alone," he said shortly. "It's straight enough. I've seen it happen before. She's gone too far without a check: I don't believe women can stand it. Let her alone."
And when the most talented of the cubs went next to interview Mrs. Julia Carter Sykes as to her recently dramatized novel, he was referred to her secretary—and it was Molly.
"For heaven's sake!" he said angrily. "Are you insane? Wasn't it true that Slater offered——"
"Oh, yes," said Molly negligently, "but I'm tired of offices."
"I suppose you get time for writing your own stuff—on the side?" he suggested awkwardly, but Molly shook her head.
"Writing seems bad for the back of the neck," she said, with a grey flash out of the tail of her eye for the cub.
"We're getting ready for the sanitarium this morning—sun-baths and Swedish Movement Cure and grape diet. Of course you won't mention it," she said. "She can't possibly see you—I do all the interviews now—but if you come around to-morrow, after I get the house closed, I'll give you a good one."
A solemn butler entered.