“There is no remedy, girls,” she began, breathlessly, “except the Vote. ” She replied. He sat down beside her just as the room became darker. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. I have suffered him to be brought up decently—honestly; because I would make his fall the greater, and deepen the wound I meant to inflict upon his mother. The rest she meant to keep for her immediate necessities. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her.
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