To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. "What's that you're saying about Jack Sheppard?" she cried. But it never said: "Tell someone! Tell someone!" Was he something of a moral pervert, then? Was it what he had lost—the familiar world—rather than what he had done? He stared dully at the footrail. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. ’ ‘And why are you not married,’ she demanded suddenly, ‘if it is that you have land?’ Gerald grimaced. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. Miss Mary to the life. ‘That’s better,’ said Gerald, and let her go. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. I never see them, they never even call.
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