Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. We aren’t worth it. He could think about it later. “You’re a biologist, aren’t you?” He began to talk of his own impressions of biology as a commonplace magazine reader who had to get what he could from the monthly reviews, and was glad to meet with any information from nearer the fountainhead. Nothing could occupy her attention long today, unless it concerned her situation. In her case the barrier was not selfishness but the perception that her interest would be misinterpreted, naturally.
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