1. "I'll make a sketch, too," he said. 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 still profoundly dark; but the wind, which had begun to blow with some violence, chased the clouds rapidly across the heavens, and dispersed the vapours hanging nearer the earth. They were going up the slope into Waterloo Station. She drew a breath, and sighed it out. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. On weighing the matter over, he grew so uneasy that he resolved to descend, and inform him of his misgivings.
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