He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. “I wish I could make every woman, every girl, see this as clearly as I see it—just what the Vote means to us. "Leave me, Sir; I insist. ” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment.
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