She had to wait some minutes in an outer office, wherein three young men of spirited costume and appearance regarded her with ill-concealed curiosity and admiration. “How old are you?” “Sixteen. I hate this part of the world. CHAPTER III. Her state of mind would have seemed altogether discreditable to her grandmother. Or was that perhaps because his business in Piccadilly the other day had gone awry? Perhaps Brewis Charvill had not welcomed him with open arms. “I wish I could make every woman, every girl, see this as clearly as I see it—just what the Vote means to us.
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