Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum. Sir John stood upon the threshold. “There is no remedy, girls,” she began, breathlessly, “except the Vote. . Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself.
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