Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. We will go to the passage and then I shall bind you. That night she found a ship bound to sail for the heathen nation called America. On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. ” Her heart had warmed toward him.
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