The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. ” “Are you a detective or a doctor?” she asked calmly. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. She breathed deeply, and he breathed sympathetically. \" He piped up. . ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. ‘He’d have been that happy if he’d known how you’re the spit of her, miss. But a man’s opposition always inclined her to the suffrage side; she had a curious feeling of loyalty in seeing the more aggressive women through. Wanton! Had I been one, even God would have forgiven me, understanding.
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