She saw through it all now.
She had refused to speak or to read before all those women's clubs and now this woman had trapped her, that was the word for it, trapped her.
As she sat there, her sullenly staring angry eyes saw in large letters at the head of a column in a morning paper on the table beside her, "'_The Poor Lady_,' the greatest anonymous novel of the year." Then she fell again to thinking of her wrongs and planning how she should wreak vengeance upon Margaret Edes..