" No sooner had Wood crept through the window, than nature gave way, and he fainted. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. I often wonder why the young always take us ancients for nambypamby creatures. They began to wrestle fiercely. CHAPTER XXVII. His bodily suffering, however, was nothing compared with his mental anguish.
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