The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. “Until you marry, Vee,” said Hetty. . A woman was born to have children, particularly male children. It was if the world had blinked out for a moment. “Admirably, thank you,” Anna answered. The well of tears in her eyes was dry. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. 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 moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with damning insistence. “His dress for no man lays a snare; A man scores always, everywhere. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again.
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