Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write. ToC About an hour after this, Jack ventured to emerge from his place of concealment. But his words were borne away by the driving wind.
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