The New York Times
19th March 1998
When the Washington Star folded in 1981, it was hard for me to find another job. Finally, I was offered a fine job at a magazine. One of its editors made the offer over dinner at a Washington hotel where he was staying. At the end of the dinner, as I got ready to leave, this nice, attractive and happily married editor looked at me and said, “Stay.” The room reeled. I stammered something about meeting my boyfriend.
“Call him,” the editor instructed, pushing a quarter across the table. Feeling dizzy, I…
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