When I think of it—” “But these are things I want to tell you now!” “I made a little song of it. ” “For a little time,” she answered. " "I think I remember reading something about your father in the papers," observed Wood. But a far greater affliction was in store for her. It doesn’t matter. I'll forgive him if he does. I had no idea. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another.
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