Clement's church. Hill sat up on the pavement and mopped the blood from his cheek. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. ” “Why in Heaven’s name should I forget?” he cried. She fled. ’ ‘A pretty tale.
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