I must!” She threw open the door and pointed to it. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. “Before I took up the Suffrage,” a firm, flat voice remarked, “I could scarcely walk up-stairs without palpitations. It is a most inauspicious start for you. I am yours for the making over. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety.
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