” “You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?” “Certain,” Courtlaw answered. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. Oh, what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue. Thames Street was wholly impassable. ’ Gosse’s eyes went to the portrait, and evidently took in the uncanny resemblance, looking from it to Melusine and back again.
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