"Mother, I come to you. The house was full of aunts, uncles, and cousins meandering about, stuffed until their seams and zippers were bursting. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. She felt her own body stir, ready for more. “I don’t believe there is one. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. You are to come home. And Capes was thinking that his wife was a supremely beautiful woman.
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