For the first time that day, she was finally able to look into his face. She found a little difficulty in beginning. Smith obeyed. At table he carved in a gloomy but resolute manner. She refrained. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. I hated the stuff. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. Capes was something superadded.
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