But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. ” “We might even have—given it up for them!” “I wonder if we could. . ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand.
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