” “A little pit!” said Ann Veronica; “a little prison!” “It’s just as often a little refuge. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. "Thank Heaven! I'm not basely born. Sebastian physically restrained her as she hit and scratched at him, trying to touch her mother who went swiftly into her death throes. She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to.
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