Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. She hung for a moment, and then went on, conclusively, “Until we have the vote that is how things WILL be. “No. Something in her lack of embarrassment irritated him. They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching.
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