Because their human lives were so short, the happily married had no time to get sick of one another. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. Mr. Wood having disposed of the brandy, and pronounced himself much better, hurried close to the fire-side, and informed his friend in a few words of the inhospitable treatment he had experienced from the gentlemen of the Mint; whereupon Mr. The next moment his grasp relaxed, and he sank to rise no more. Once she stopped in front of a mirror and looked at herself thoughtfully. It was time to get up. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee.
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