The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. “Come on in, Michelle. Wood. ‘Well, she’d better learn fast if she wants any truck with me. Only you seem to me since the time when I knew you in Paris to have changed—to have changed in some subtle manner which I find at times utterly bewildering. Promise me that you’ll contact the police if she ever calls you on the phone, or worse, shows up at your school. ’ It seems that I was mistaken. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. Here was an instrument which might be of the greatest service to him in accomplishing his design. His heart hammered in his chest. And they could talk, they found; and never once, it seemed, did their meaning and intention hitch. She swallowed hard. Jackson?" said Wood, significantly.
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