My politics in that matter wouldn’t be to give women votes. Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. “It is your sister and her husband,” he said. He entered the room with his usual deliberation, and looked covertly about him. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish.
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