Page:Middle Aged Love Stories (IA middleagedlove00bacorich).djvu/119



Could it be that they had preferred—actually preferred— But she had, herself, three years ago. She shook her head decidedly. “Not for nine years, not for nine!” she murmured, as she caught through the heavy door a familiar voice raised to emphasize some French phrase.

And yet, somebody must teach them. They could not be born with foreign idioms and historical dates and mathematical formulae in their little heads. She herself deplored the modern tendency that sent a changing drift of young teachers through the colleges, to learn at the expense of the students a soon relinquished profession. But how ridiculous the position of the women who prided themselves on the steadiness and continuity of their service! Surely they must find it an empty success at times. They must regret.

She was passing through the chapel. Two scrubbing-women were straightening the chairs, their backs turned to her.

“From all I hear,” said one, with a