dBooks desire

But, as she
now realized, it is one thing to pass upon the work
of others; it is another thing to do work oneself.
She-- There was literally nothing that she could do.
Any occupation, even the most menial, was either
beyond her skill or beyond her strength, or beyond
both.
Suddenly she recalled that she could sing. Her
prostrate spirit suddenly leaped erect. Yes, she could sing!
Her voice had been praised by experts. Her singing
had been in demand at charity entertainments where
amateurs had to compete with professionals. Then
down she dropped again. She sang well enough to
know how badly she sang--the long and toilsome and
expensive training that lay between her and operatic or
concert or even music-hall stage. Her voice was fine at
times. Again--most of the time--it was unreliable.
No, she could not hope to get paying employment even
as a church choir-singer. Miss Dresser who sang in the
choir of the Good Shepherd for ten dollars a Sunday,
had not nearly so good a voice as she, but it was reliable.


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