The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. But it is all over now, and presently there will be some one else. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. And I want him out of uniform. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you. Then pain entered their depths. . ” “I am going to pack my bag,” Anna answered.
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