And then there came for both of them at least a temporary awakening. “Act three. ” “Upon my word,” he declared, “you are right. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. The larger problem at hand was drugging her foster sister, Shari, into a deep sleep. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. “You are talking like a boy. \"So did I. ” Lights went on inside the house on the upper level. There he paused again, half turning his back and pretending to look for someone among the soldiers on the benches. ” With a little crash the pistol fell from her shaking fingers.
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