“Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape. . Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. It was ten feet long, a relic. She listened, her suspicions confirmed.
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