He was all alone, like herself. I do not wish that the soldiers there will see it shine. You did not learn that in a convent. I somehow understood. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. It was ended. His favorite newspaper was the Times, which he began at breakfast in the morning often with manifest irritation, and carried off to finish in the train, leaving no other paper at home. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. Gerald grinned.
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