” He greeted her. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic. I just want him, and no one else will do. She had not seen Ramage for ten or eleven days, and she was quite ready for a gossip with him. ‘Well?’ she said. Yet she never once thought of changing it. ’ She shuddered, throwing her hands over her face. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. ” “Annabel, are you mad? To England! You are joking, of course. She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste.
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