She declined. I persisted; proposed a glass of wine, or spirit.
She declined, but at last let out she was starving."
"Oh!" cried Zoe.
"Yes, Zoe--starving. A woman more learned, more scientific, more
eloquent, more offensive to a fellow's vanity, than I ever saw, or even
read of--a woman of _genius,_ starving, like a genius and a ninny, with a
ring on her finger worth thirty guineas. But my learned goose would not
raise money on that, because it was her father's, and he is dead."
"Poor thing!" said Zoe, and her eyes glistened directly.
"It _is_ hard, Zoe, isn't it? She is a physician--an able physician; has
studied at Zurich and at Edinburgh, and in France, and has a French
diploma; but must not practice in England, because we are behind the
Continent in laws and civilization--so _she_ says, confound her
impudence, and my folly for becoming a woman's echo! But if I were to
tell you her whole story, your blood would boil at the trickery, and
dishonesty, and oppression of the trades-union which has driven this
gifted creature to a foreign school for education; and, now that a
foreign nation admits her ability and crowns her with honor, still she
must not practice in this country, because she is a woman, and we are a
nation of half-civilized men.
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