He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. Lives by his wits and gambling. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. He looked half at her and half at the sky. ‘May I, indeed? I’ll take you up on that. She comprehends what we're about. She put down the sketch-books and apparatus she had brought with her, pulled out her stool, and sat down. A queer game this: he could not move directly as in an ordinary case of manhunt. That ring manifestly occupied her thoughts a great deal. The office is a sight—not one sheet of paper on another; bills and receipts everywhere.
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