"Yes."
"Did you think it was queer?"
"A little."
"A girl I used to know back in the country tried to kill herself. She wrote me a letter, but it didn't get to me till after midnight, so I called up Max and got him to go with me down to the Rookeries district where she lives. Poor little Maggie! She got caught in one of those sewing-girl traps."
"Some kind of machinery?"
"Machinery? You don't know much about what goes on in your town, do you?"
"Not as much as an editor ought to know—which is everything."
"I'll bring you Maggie's letter. That tells it better than I can. And I want to write it up, too. Let me write it up for the paper." She leaned forward and her eyes besought him. "I want to prove I can do something besides being a vulgar little 'Kitty the Cutie.'"
"Oh, my dear," he said, half paternally, but only half, "I'm sorry I hurt you with that word."
"You didn't mean to." Her smile forgave him. "Maggie's story means another fight for the paper. Can we stand another?"