Chapter SevenCora yanked the sheet of paper from the typewriter with a satisfying zip. She scanned the page for errors.
“Hey, Cora.” Fanny Detweiler, the only other female correspondent in the room, hollered over the deafening clickety-clack of the machines. “A bunch of us are going to the Fox and Hound. You want to come?”
Laying down the article, Cora shrugged. “I’ve had a grueling day. How long do you plan to stay?”
“An hour. Maybe two. Come on. It will be fun.” Fanny held out her hands. “Help me out. I don’t want to be the only gal with these lugs.”
“Okay. You win.”
Fanny hurried to where Cora stood. “You’re a peach. I owe you one.”
“No problem. We girls have to stick together. There aren’t many of us.”
“You got that right.” Fanny leaned close. “We’ve invited that dreamy Van Topp
