“What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. “You’re. “In Paris your sister appeared to me to be a charming student of frivolity. She launched into a stuffy Partita 89 and played it too fast. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. I—I am a lovesick idiot, and not accountable for my actions. On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women.
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