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The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. 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. ‘Who is to be angry with you now?’ ‘Miss Prudence, that’s who,’ stated Joan bluntly. You are captain of your soul; don't forget your Henley. He could talk to her as frankly as he could to a man, that she would not take offence at anything so long as it was in the form of explanation.
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