When he found himself thinking about it, it upset him so that he at once resorted to distraction. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. “But if you weren’t keen on the suffrage business, why on earth did you go to prison?” Ann Veronica reflected. Plainly. Perhaps I ate something spoiled for breakfast. ’ ‘And I love the way you call me imbecile,’ finished Gerald. " "Shall we do so?" whispered Winifred to her father.
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