’ She stopped, for Jack was feebly laughing. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. ” He stuttered. She was shaking violently when she entered the side door of the house. She was looking anxiously at the entrance to the restaurant. Never any doubt of it. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room.
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