Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. She recognized the cloth at once, waylaid him, and with that directness of speech particularly hers she explained what she wanted. He had heard nothing. But there was a face pressed to the glass. You are to make for that and get into the lobby if you can, and so try and reach the floor of the House, crying ‘Votes for Women!’ as you go. Forthwith he presented his card. And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch.
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