“Why not?” He asked. Wood rushed instantly to meet them. He had shaved his side-whiskers and come over in flannels, but he was still indisputably the same person who had attended Ann Veronica for the measles and when she swallowed the fish-bone. Apparently she was always doomed to weep when she talked to her father. She was unusually pale, and her eyes were brilliant. He sat before a desk littered all over with papers and official looking documents. “To the view that all women ought to have votes whether they like it or not. It was not the type of household where one could come and go at all hours, for this she was glad.
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