"I must see him to-night. Brown or Jones, I dare say. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. He could scarcely blame her. They walked two by two to the car, looking the part of 267 two weary spouses supporting their drunken mates after an all-night bender. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested. " "I thought as much," sneered Mrs. God forgive you!" "May He, indeed, forgive me!" returned Trenchard, crossing himself devoutly; "but my guilt is not the less heavy, because your child escaped. Perhaps I ought to have let you order the dinner, but I think I got through it pretty well.
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