“Until you marry, Vee,” said Hetty. But it was otherwise with the carpenter. And they could talk, they found; and never once, it seemed, did their meaning and intention hitch. “What do you mean?” Lucy asked. Some had the dignity and the aloofness of a rock in the sea; and others were as the polished pebbles on the sands—one saw the difference of pebble from pebble only by close scrutiny. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels.
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