‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. "But, I should think, after the specimen you've just given of your amiable disposition, no person would be likely to saddle himself with such an incumbrance. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. Tell me that you are not sorry to see me again. It keeps dangling in front of my eyes. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. "It's a mercy you both escaped!" ejaculated Wood, only just finding his tongue.
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