Winter came at the manor. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. “I have been bearing this—for your sake. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. Sheppard. I haven’t, anyhow. How can you say such things? You’re too young to be married, and realize this: you’re not ready. ‘This is altogether insupportable!’ She dug a hand into the recesses of the petticoat of her riding habit and a moment later Gerald found himself once again confronting the barrel of her overlarge and tarnished pistol. Gosse took a step or two towards the centre of the room.
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