In mid-bite, she heard a car door slam that was recognizable. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. ’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. A girl of fifteen or sixteen gave her a handbill that she regarded as a tract until she saw “Votes for Women” at the top.
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