It was something that would create a mutual claim, a relationship. Their eyes met, and his expressed perplexity and curiosity. “Before I took up the Suffrage,” a firm, flat voice remarked, “I could scarcely walk up-stairs without palpitations. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. You do not believe me. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply.
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