Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. She started forward. “Looooo-ceeeeee!!” He yelled, sounding like Desi Arnaz. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. The island castle at Port Herculis had been part of the trade off, all to be kept as quiet as the circumstances of her second marriage and her “suicide”.
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