A girl of fifteen or sixteen gave her a handbill that she regarded as a tract until she saw “Votes for Women” at the top. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. Spurling? Why, if Captain Sheppard should get off, it 'ud be fifty guineas out of my way. She went to the basement and shed her sodden coat and scarf, tossing them into her favorite modern appliance, the electric dryer. The air was thick with feelings. Had he been listening inside? ‘What is amiss?’ ‘That Frenchie, sir. “I mean to go to that dance! I meant to reason with you, but you won’t reason. I think I know where I am puzzling you now——” “Then for Heaven’s sake be merciful,” he exclaimed. It was rude and disrespectful to raise her eyes to him, her mother had warned.
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