Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. "I've been wondering, until this morning, if you were real. She chuckled. ” He said, his voice tinged with worry. "I don't know; I really don't know. ‘He prayeth best who loveth best—all things both great and small. “I HAVE—had one or two talks with him, daddy. ” She tried to think of some altered state of affairs in which these monstrous limitations would be alleviated, in which women would stand on their own feet in equal citizenship with men. To reach it would be a most difficult undertaking. In your heart you know quite well that all that you have said is useless.
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