I'm so hungry,
walking in this wind. But the air is glorious."
She went away to remove her hat and coat, and came back quickly, her
masses of black hair suggesting but not confirming the impression that
the wind had lately had its way with them. Her eyes scanned the table
eagerly like those of a hungry boy.
"Some of your scholars sick?" inquired Ted.
"Two--and one away. So I'm to have a whole beautiful afternoon, though I
may have to see them Wednesday to make up. I am a teacher in Miss
Copeland's private school," she explained to Richard as simply as one of
the young women he knew would have explained. "I have singing lessons of
Servensky."
This gave the young man food for thought, in which he indulged while
Miss Roberta Gray told Ted of an encounter she had had that morning with
a special friend of his own. This daughter of a distinguished man--of a
family not so rich as his own, but still of considerable wealth and
unquestionably high social position--was a teacher in a school for
girls; a most exclusive school, of course--he knew the one very
well--but still in a school and for a salary. To Richard the thing was
strange enough.
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