“I remember you now,” he said. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. "You have both," replied Wood, fervently. She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels.
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