But at the word “home” she turned again. It slid off flimsily. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. Cathy sighed. " "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. "Now—begin. If anyone noticed, he did not report the event. ” The corners of her lips rose along with her eyebrows.
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