Gerald smiled and crooked his elbow. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. “You will come back, won’t you?” He nodded cheerfully. Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. Between him and the beach stood the sum of six hundred dollars. “I must confess,” he said, “the New Woman and the New Girl intrigue me profoundly. —The general who gives an order for wholesale carnage never sleeps a wink the less soundly for the midnight groans of his victims, and we should deride him as a coward if he did.
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