’ Abruptly, the niggling doubt that had been plaguing Lord Charvill came sweeping to the surface. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. The boy doesn't know it, but I dug into his trunk for something to identify him and stumbled upon some manuscripts. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. “If it is a choice between the two,” she answered, “I must be Annabel Pellissier.
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