The screams of the unfortunate woman had aroused Thames from his slumbers. “I wish I could make every woman, every girl, see this as clearly as I see it—just what the Vote means to us. She imagined herself on a barren 41 plain, post-Apocalypse, convulsing, waiting to die with the cockroach. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. I can’t do it even decently myself, and I dare not run the risk of ruining all my clothes.
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