She saw Lucy darkening her doorstep and stood from the recliner. "By my shalvation, boy," he added, fiercely, "if you don't take your hande off my peard, I'll sthrangle you. Anna merely glanced at the coarse, flushed features, and at once shook her head. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. My politics in that matter wouldn’t be to give women votes.
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