“We parted— that night the best of friends. So she said: “I won’t come home. There are times when you make me feel a little thing at your feet—a young, silly, protected thing. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. They travelled past the few idle sightseers who had braved the uninviting evening to see what the Suffragettes might be doing; they pulled up unchallenged within thirty yards of those coveted portals. On your own.
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