She found herself in a phase of violent reaction against the suffrage movement, a phase greatly promoted by one of those unreasonable objections people of Ann Veronica’s temperament take at times—to the girl in the next cell to her own. Ann Veronica’s tense nerves started, and she stood still with her eyes upon him, wondering what it might be that impended. She felt the whack from about six feet away, kitty corner. “I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered.
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