"
"Yes, on their way to the Royal Free Hospital. Note the gravity of their
demeanour and contrast it with the levity of the male student."
"I was doing so," she answered, "and wondering why professional women
are usually so much more serious than men."
"Perhaps," I suggested, "it is a matter of selection. A peculiar type of
woman is attracted to the professions, whereas every man has to earn his
living as a matter of course."
"Yes, I daresay that is the explanation. This is our turning."
We passed into Heathcote Street, at the end of which was an open gate
giving entrance to one of those disused and metamorphosed burial-grounds
that are to be met with in the older districts of London; in which the
dispossessed dead are jostled into corners to make room for the living.
Many of the headstones were still standing, and others, displaced to
make room for asphalted walks and seats, were ranged around by the
walls, exhibiting inscriptions made meaningless by their removal. It was
a pleasant enough place on this summer afternoon, contrasted with the
dingy street whence we had come, though its grass was faded and yellow
and the twitter of the birds in the trees mingled with the hideous
Board-school drawl of the children who played around the seats and the
few remaining tombs.
Pages:
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344