“How do you feel?” she asked. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. And, now, to find a messenger. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. "My little fancy man's quite as fond of me as of you, Bess. “What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend. She came with such force that she feared he might be pushed out from 193 the contractions, which did not happen. 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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