On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. “If I were to marry now,” she said, “it would be with a sense of humiliation. . That would be myself, or if she lived, Mary’s daughter. Think—think of that engagement!” Their talk had come to eloquent silences that contradicted all he had to say. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. ‘Don’t fob me off, boy.
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