In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly. CHAPTER XVII. The life of a girl presented itself to her as something happy and heedless and unthinking, yet really guided and controlled by others, and going on amidst unsuspected screens and concealments. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. Celeste introduced him to me—oh, how Celeste hated me! She must have known.
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