If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. It looked as if it had taken its world for granted and prospered on that assumption—a world in which children were trained to obey their elders and the wills of women over-ruled as a matter of course. ‘I knows how to do better nor any surgeon.
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