As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. You speak as one injured—as though I had been the one to take your name—as though you had been the one to make sacrifices. But the clearly definite thing was the ultimate escape. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. “We will see that he doesn’t follow you. ” Annabel shook her head.
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