She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. ‘You kissed me that you might make me find it for you instead?’ ‘I had no such intention. “It was unpleasant while it lasted, but it is over —and my toasted scones are delicious. She had better escape if she can. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order.
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