But I am not worthy to be any man's wife —far less his wife. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. “I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. With delicate touch he rescued all that was possible of them, and made a careful little parcel. She had no inkling of that insupportable wrong. \"So John, are you two lovebirds going to the Junior Prom or what?\" He paused, smirking.
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