And she did think of it. But in all her life she had
never considered the idea of money-making. That was
something for men, and for the middle and lower classes
--while Hanging Rock was regarded as most noisomely
middle class by fashionable people, it did not so regard
itself. Money-making was not for ladies. Like all her
class, she was a constant and a severe critic of the
women of the lower orders who worked for her as milliners,
dressmakers, shop-attendants, cooks, maids. 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,