“The Vote is the symbol of everything,” said Miss Brett. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. " With this praiseworthy determination, he was hastening down stairs, with the utmost rapidity, when he encountered a female, whom he took, in the darkness, to be Mrs. Her whole face stiffened with suppressed anger. . Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. “You needn’t be anxious about that! I shall contrive to live.
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