Stanley coughed and faced toward the house. There was a gentle rustling of skirts. “But a boy—a boy goes out into the world and presently stands on his own feet. “There is no remedy, girls,” she began, breathlessly, “except the Vote. His sword-arm fell useless at his side and she knew herself safe. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own. To-morrow, we'll go to the Fleet and get spliced.
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