Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. Gerald? But could he be here so quickly? She hastily dabbed at her eyes, thankful for the darkness that she saw had come on outside unnoticed, dimming the room. She began to miss him when he was gone during the day and cherish the quiet times he spent only with her. ” “You’re lucky to live in an age when you can do so. ” She stopped abruptly, and turned about toward the front door. ” “Why?” Mr. He told her something about music, the great world outside. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall.
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