On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. I pray you, Gérard, do not fail me. I promised to put him in touch with some people in Rome, an idea which he warmed to. This time he couldn't get far. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. “Well!” she declared good-humouredly. White.
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