"Go on. “I want two words—with Miss Pellissier alone,” Hill pleaded. It was my destiny to have her. His eyes were narrow with desire like a panther’s as he grinned at seeing her visibly satisfied. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. People, nobody, can do as they like in this world. We quickly drew up the documentation and made living arrangements for you and I. He flung aside all his talk of help and disinterested friendship as though it had never been even a disguise between them, as though from the first it was no more than a fancy dress they had put quite understandingly upon their relationship. ’ ‘Comment? How will it serve you to kill me?’ ‘I do not need to kill you. “Nice sleeve,” she said, and came to his hand and kissed it.
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