You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. ’ ‘Indeed, I’m beginning to think so,’ he said ruefully. "I was afraid from the scream I heard, that something dreadful had happened, Sir Rowland has a terrible temper indeed—a shocking temper! I declare he frightens me out of my senses. His literary instincts began to stir. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. Somebody to whom she would be necessary, who for days would have to depend upon her for the needs of life. And then all her restlessness was turned to joy. The main idea now is of the future.
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