Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. I won’t try. His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. She was my first love. What need had she of Gerald, or anyone? Yet, if he was here, would he not make some foolish game with her and make her laugh? Instead of behaving in this fashion so stupide, and crying, crying, crying. . She gurgled.
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