The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. “In all fairness,” she thought to herself as she coaxed his mouth toward her left nipple. It would be the wrappered world almost at its best. Escape was now impossible. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. I keep on thinking of little details and aspects of your voice, your eyes, the way you walk, the way your hair goes back from the side of your forehead.
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