The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. The Widow and her Child. How will we get there, I’d like to know? We’ve no money. "To-morrow night!" said Spurlock, in a wondering whisper. Shari was to be protected, to be dissuaded from driving in cars with older boys at night, to be steered away from dope and beer and certain friends who had no plans to work or to go to college. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth.
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