“You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. The youth with the hair brushed back and the spectacled Scotchman joined in the fray for and against the women’s vote. Anna turned round with a start, which was almost of guilt, the poker still in her hand. “A silly little priestess who knew nothing of life at all until she came to you. "Thank you, Mrs.
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