On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. Only in her eyes there seemed to be some apprehension of the fact that the young man’s clothes and manners were alike undesirable things. The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow.
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