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toward. She could change the world some day, with the right help. And she knew just where to find that.
    Blucher didn't object when Georgina ordered him to take her downtown the next day. He did look slightly puzzled at the street she requested, but no one had given him orders to keep her out of photography studios. And when she sent him home with the news that she would be returning later with Peter, he obediently left her to her own devices.
    Several hours later, Georgina was regretting her deviousness in dismissing Blucher, but she'd had to do it. There wasn't any way in the world she could hide the heavy satchels of photography paraphernalia, and she wasn't prepared to answer her family's questions about it. But the damned stuff weighed at least a ton.
    Women stared at her with curiosity as she trudged down the street in the direction of Hanover Industries. A strange man offered to help her carry the load, but his eyes were everywhere except on the equipment, and Georgina used her tripod to trip him. People stared more as the man fell on his face, but she marched on without any indication that she noticed. One of the advantages of this street was that it was almost in the respectable area of town, but close enough to the industrial side that she could walk there—providing her arms didn't fall off first.
    Sweat poured in rivulets through the dust on Georgina's face by the time she reached the factory. She kept well out of sight of her father's windows, watching carefully for the name of the building listed on Mr. Martin's business card. She knew her hair was coming unpinned and was straggling down the back of her neck, and her arms were nearly numb from the weight of the cumbersome equipment, but she wouldn't turn back now. She knew precisely what she wanted to do.
    The faded paint on the wooden sign over the door was barely legible, but the building was made of substantial brick and only the bottom windows were boarded. Surely that was a promising sign. Georgina hefted one satchel to a more comfortable position and opened the door.
    It squeaked. She gave it a doubtful look and glanced hesitantly into the darkened hallway. No lights flickered behind the boarded windows. She pushed the door open farther so that sunlight poured into the hall. In the center of the cavernous first floor she found a stairway, and the dull roar of machinery filtered down from the upper floors. The building wasn't entirely empty, then.
    Squaring her shoulders, Georgina marched in. Her steps sounded ominously loud in the empty hall, but if there was anyone there, they didn't respond to her presence. She would have to climb the stairs and take her chances.
    Groaning at the thought of carrying her equipment up no telling how many flights of stairs, she gripped her satchels a little tighter and set out. She wasn't about to appear in front of Mr. Martin dirty and bedraggled and without her equipment. She would show him that she was more than just a social butterfly. She was going to be a working woman, too.
    Georgina didn't know why it was important that he know that, and she didn't spend any time worrying about it. She meant to take pictures to go with the stories he was writing, show the unfairness of this male-dominated world that allowed women to work long hours for less than a man and no doubt any number of other subjects of injustice when they occurred to her. She would have a purpose in life.
    She didn't waste time wondering what Peter would think of that, either. If he thought anything at all, he could just take his engagement ring and find some simpering ninny to put it on. She meant to make the whole world see once and for all that she had a mind and intended to use it for something besides planning seating arrangements.
    The noise from the printing press grew louder as she ascended to the second story. Her heels clattering against the wooden floor couldn't be heard above the racket. She followed the sound down still another hallway, this