Sir John hesitated. " "Still, you forgot something. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. He had sold half a dozen short tales to thirdrate magazines; but this letter had been issued from a distinguished editorial room, of international reputation. 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. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone.
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