‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. He had gained admission somehow, and he too was waiting for Anna. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. " "A bold resolution," said the woollen-draper. From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels.
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