Anna, in her strange striking way, was radiantly beautiful. Spurling in alarm. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. ‘I hope I do not understand you. "Who's that queer cove in the full-bottomed wig?" "Attend to me, sirrah," rejoined Wild, sternly. " The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door. I die happy—quite happy in beholding you. 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.
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