Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly. Let's talk of this chap. I was at work at it yesterday and the day before. She could not judge its direction, and began to move swiftly along the bookshelves, her hand running behind her across the spines of the calfbound volumes. ’ ‘And you do not know me. A pane of glass was shivered by each stone.
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