Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. This formidable person, who was no other than the renowned Figg, the "Atlas of the sword," as he is termed by Captain Godfrey, had removed his hat and "skull covering," and was wiping the heat from his bepatched and closeshaven pate. ‘Wait, Jacques! I will find the way to open this. Sir Cecil, who with Rowland and some others had entered the room rushed to the window with a torch. I was helpless. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. “I wish I could make every woman, every girl, see this as clearly as I see it—just what the Vote means to us. Just now my best ones are all taken. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ann Veronica, by H.
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