She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. “Of course he may merely have been telling her who we were, but I think it improbable. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. ’ He laughed. . You see, the trouble is that the matter is in dispute. "Lost no time on the road—eh!—I didn't expect you till to-morrow at the earliest. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. The gallows is in view—I see it with all its hideous apparatus!—ough!" and shuddering violently, she placed her hands before her, as if to exclude some frightful vision from her sight.
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