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There was the world besides, looming darker and larger. “You are very good,” she said. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. “I will take a carriage,” she said, “and fetch my things. You never saw him before yesterday. The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear.
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