Jack did not advance to meet her. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. It wasn’t so much women as Woman that engaged his mind. “A ballot-box, you know,” he said, “is very largely just a box. “How shall I put the question? What am I? What have I got to do with myself?.
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