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The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. . Mrs. The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. "No, I don't. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets.
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