Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. She had to wait some minutes in an outer office, wherein three young men of spirited costume and appearance regarded her with ill-concealed curiosity and admiration. ‘What in God’s name is going on?’ Glancing swiftly towards the doorway, Gerald saw his friend’s disbelieving face and burst out, speaking over the top of Melusine as she made another grab for the little square of linen. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. It is bad policy.
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