‘I thought—I thought I saw my—my husband. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. ’ For a moment Gerald said nothing at all. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. ’ Melusine stifled a giggle. Apart from everything else, this meeting of ours is a breach of a good rule. He was an odd one, especially for a young man.
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