Miss Klegg raised the question of women’s suffrage, and he set himself to provoke a duel between her and Miss Garvice. She laughed as the deluge seemed to grow worse with every step. “The doctor has asked me to give them my reasons—for shooting myself. "Well, well; look who's here!" cried Spurlock. "Friday!" echoed Mrs. ‘She wants me to marry her. "Any price was better than your head. Voting wouldn’t do no ‘arm to ‘er. I may as well think. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. His eyes caught at hers with passionate inquiries. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt.
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