“But if you weren’t keen on the suffrage business, why on earth did you go to prison?” Ann Veronica reflected. As Jack departed, a dark figure, emerging from behind a wall, rushed after him. "Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up. His face clouded with anger. Other phrases returned now, like echoes. They carried no more than bare subsistence wages; and they demanded all her time and energy.
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