Her family had hosted a feast in his honor for which they had taken weeks to prepare: with braised capons and lobster sausages and all sorts of delicious spiced stews her mother had made from secret recipes. They were enormously pleased with one another; they found each other beyond measure better than they had expected, if only because of the want of substance in mere expectation. " "Never to return," remarked Jack, gloomily. Aren’t I asking—asking plainly now?. That's the kind, my friend, that always fall soft. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels.
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