She sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed, the roses cradled in her arms. "Rachel," said Mr. "Jack!" Her son averted his gaze. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. Neither your aunt nor I have any other thought but what is best for you. “When you married me——” Her little hand flashed out across the table. .
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