Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. The doctor nodded to him curtly. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. ’ Gosse blinked. ” “Of course you’re converted?” she said. ” “Girls!” cried Ann Veronica. The very sight of these impediments, would have appalled a less courageous spirit than Sheppard's—but nothing could daunt him. Before ever I knew you. A shy virgin bride would not press her thigh sinuously against his, nor consent indeed to this clandestine little comedy he had been playing. The world, perhaps, will be educated out of its idea of fixed standards.
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