On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. A shout was heard at a little distance, and, the next moment, a person rushed with breathless haste to the stair-head. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. ‘Hates doing the pretty. The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would be no escape. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. But it was of no avail.
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