" "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. But when Ruth's hand fell gently upon his bony head, he knew that no one in this house would ever offer him a kick. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. “Freedom! Citizenship! And the way to that—the way to everything—is the Vote. She shuddered; the room was unfamiliar and unwelcoming.
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