S. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. Manning relinquished his cup, and looked meaningly at Ann Veronica. “And where are YOU going?” he said. Gosse cursed him finely, of course, but there was nothing he could do. Was it that the struggle of things to survive produced as a sort of necessary byproduct these intense preferences and appreciations, or was it that some mystical outer thing, some great force, drove life beautyward, even in spite of expediency, regardless of survival value and all the manifest discretions of life? She went to Capes with that riddle and put it to him very carefully and clearly, and he talked well—he always talked at some length when she took a difficulty to him—and sent her to a various literature upon the markings of butterflies, the incomprehensible elaboration and splendor of birds of Paradise and hummingbirds’ plumes, the patterning of tigers, and a leopard’s spots. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. This door was crested with spikes, and guarded on the right by a bristling semicircle of spikes.
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