’ Melusine stared. ‘It weren’t my wish, miss, I can tell you that. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so. "I don't know," she answered vaguely. Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her. That is what I don't understand. I can’t even carry a tune with a bucket. She felt his whole mind sounding in ecstasy. Sheppard. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels.
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