Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. He had a great contempt for the sections the “theorizers” produced. "Mine died while I was over here. “This is much the cheapest place I know of where things are moderately clean, and I should hate rooms all by myself. " "To-morrow will be too late," replied the widow, in a hollow voice, "I feel it will.
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