A shudder rippled across his shoulders. ” He shook his head. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. I could never make you understand. “You may go on with that work,” he said, “so long as you keep in harmony with things at home. ‘Keep your distance! You dare to tell me I cannot refuse?’ He glared at the girl. It has instead found you.
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