" "We'll see that, young hempseed," replied Sharples, shutting the hatch furiously in his face, and locking it. And she—’ ‘She!’ interrupted the young lady crossly. Ann Veronica stared for a moment in amazement at this dark-green object that clashed as it was put down. She could not speak. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. " "Then this is not my child?" exclaimed she, with increased astonishment.
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