She could do good work.

They might wear their pretty clothes, have their friends and make life a greater misery than it ever before had been for her, but not one of them should do better work or be more womanly.

That lay with her.

She was tall, straight, and handsome as she arose.
"Of course I can explain my work," she said in natural tones.

"What I can't explain is how I happened to be so stupid as to make a mistake in writing my own name.