“How unkind!” she exclaimed. “I must explain to her. “I had to. How does one get work? She walked along the Strand and across Trafalgar Square, and by the Haymarket to Piccadilly, and so through dignified squares and palatial alleys to Oxford Street; and her mind was divided between a speculative treatment of employment on the one hand, and breezes—zephyr breezes—of the keenest appreciation for London, on the other. You fooled me this morning; but I overheard two old maids talking about you and the young man. “Freedom! Citizenship! And the way to that—the way to everything—is the Vote. "Never throw away a chance," thought Jonathan. We were talking about the suffrage—and I rather scoffed. She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying. “These are the playgrounds of life. Her husband quickly joined the fray, making her giggle and laugh.
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