Gerald grinned. Her eyes followed him. 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 would have been a crisis anyhow, but it was complicated in Ann Veronica’s mind by the fact that a letter lay on the breakfast-table from Mr. Wood in a sharp tone. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. " "I wonder where the deuce I'll be able to get some writing paper? I'm crazy to get to work again.
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