April Dancer sat alone at a table in a crowded Commissary, sipping her mug of tea and nibbling on her tuna fish sandwich.
Having had the distinct impression she was being shunned when she first approached a tableful of Communications specialists and secretaries; she was told the empty chair was being saved for another one of the girls.
She tried several more times, not only asking women but some of her fellow Section II agents if she could join them. The variety of excuses she received told her simply that her company wasn’t welcome.
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