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Above her head was an aura of white fire. “Thank you,” she said coolly. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them. The youth with the hair brushed back and the spectacled Scotchman joined in the fray for and against the women’s vote. Blueskin therefore had nothing to stop him. In reply to this summons a horn was instantly blown at the corner of the street. “Vee,” she said, “come home.
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