Lucy jammed her foot down onto Mark McCloskey’s forehead. “There is no remedy, girls,” she began, breathlessly, “except the Vote. . Was he pleased?” “Calmly! He said—you won’t mind my telling you?” “Not a bit. . He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. ” He signed his name and reflected. “Through there,” he said, and pointed with the pamphlet he was carrying. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. "By G—! she has missed her footing.
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