He first met her when he had caught her smoking behind the Joliet LaudrO-Matic one cool overcast day in late August. A woman’s shoe lay on the threadbare carpeting. “You pushed the wheel from my hand. She waited expectantly. " "Do not talk thus, dear mother," returned Jack, gazing anxiously at her pale countenance, "or I shall not be able to quit you. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels.
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