The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. A tinge of admiration rose in his breast. His apparel was sumptuous in the extreme, and such as was only worn by persons of the highest distinction. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. It cuts. Oh the back of her arm she found the faintest down of hair in the world. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts.
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