I waited for her at the back. “The Vote is the symbol of everything,” said Miss Brett. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. In a momentary fury she seized and tore in pieces the study which remained upon the easel. She could no longer wait. The doctor here says he can get you aboard to-morrow night. ‘You are wise, Marthe.
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