On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down. “Never mind, old chap,” he declared. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. . She had but to choose. ” “Did it hurt when we did it?” His voice rose, inflamed with worry. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. “It isn’t objections exactly. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night.
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