“What were you doing outside Miss Pellissier’s flat to-night? You were looking at her windows. Jonathan had not deceived him. There, in a little tea and sweetstuff shop, she bought and consumed slowly and absent-mindedly the insufficient nourishment that is natural to her sex on such occasions. It runs about gayly, it romps, it is bright and pretty, it has enormous quantities of soft hair and more power of expressing affection than its brothers. One comes at last to the step from dreams to reality. He bent to her hand, and she slipped off the ring and gave it to him to examine. She was a little paler than when she had come to London, a little paler and a little thinner. " "Dear me!" sympathised Mrs. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels.
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