The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. He was now at the entrance of the chapel, and striking the door over which he had previously climbed a violent blow with the bar, it flew open. She pursued her interest in the Socialist movement and in the Suffragist agitation in the company of Miss Miniver. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. ” “I am afraid,” she murmured, “that it would be difficult.
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