‘As to that, I am a devil, say the nuns. ” “But how can I help it? How can I keep silence?” “Please!” she insisted. Please sit down, Miss —dear me, I haven’t asked you your name yet. She made noises between weeping and laughter as she went. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. Dear me, what a difference it has made! No one would ever think that we were sisters. ’ ‘I spit on your plan,’ Melusine told him furiously. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. ’ ‘And you will not,’ came triumphantly from the cherry lips. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. Not these twenty year.
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