Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. For a second time Ann Veronica wanted to swear at the universe. Something seemed awry. " "And what is that?" "I have relatives not far from Hartford. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. Mutual concessions!—and then to turn it around so that it suggested that an act of kindness might be interpreted as moral obloquy! Walls; queer, invisible walls that receded whenever she reached out, but that still remained between her and what she sought.
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