I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. “I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. "You're not hurt I hope, Sir Rowland?" inquired this individual. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park.
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