Take that box, and put it into the carriage yourself. CHAPTER X. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. I am bothered. He placed his chin upon the top of her head. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. Her words, as she said them, seemed to her to mean nothing, and there was so much that struggled for expression. “Now you look happy. “Thank you both for treating me for all the world like I was your child.
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