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Why, honestly enouch. “I was surprised, I admit,” he said. But here I am to draw upon. . “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. Wood's," was the reply. Her senses were prickled when she felt a new pair of eyes upon her. You know—if you want freedom. A girl of fifteen or sixteen gave her a handbill that she regarded as a tract until she saw “Votes for Women” at the top. But, no. But, by Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry stilettos in their hair. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture.
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