The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. But native! She must watch out. A sophisticated woman would have translated the tone as a caress. ‘You mean I should give myself a dressingdown? Very well. “Confound your lover! Look here! Do you really think I am going to run you while he makes love to you? No fear! I never heard of anything so cool. ‘You make a game with me, I think. Now the doctor had the "feel" that somewhere ahead lay danger.
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