The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. ‘And I am delighted to see that you are ready to admit that the Charvills—or rather the Valades—are indeed your affair. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son.
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