Twice he cleaned the old briar; still there was no improvement. ” The figure of her aunt, a little distant, a little propitiatory, behind the coffee things, filled her with a sense of almost catastrophic adventure. If, when he returned, he blew out the light, she would go to bed; but if the light burned on for any length of time, she would go silently to the study curtain to learn if his agony was still upon him. “I can’t endure it,” she said. “Freedom! Citizenship! And the way to that—the way to everything—is the Vote.
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