ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. And yet for all that— It got into Ann Veronica’s nights at last and kept her awake, the perplexing contrast between the advanced thought and the advanced thinker. The gong will go at seven-thirty. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. “You are quite right, I think. “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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