"What does he say?" roared the long drover. “Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. Around him were all the evidences of plenty. Perhaps I ate something spoiled for breakfast. " "Halloo, Nab!" vociferated Quilt. "But vere'll be the use o' vinnin'? you von't live to pay me. Why ever did you let me get into that wagonette?” “I thought we had to,” said Ann Veronica, who had also been a little under the compulsion of the marshals of the occasion. “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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