CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. Sometimes I think you would have been much better off if you had been born in death-worshipping Egypt instead of in the Fourteenth Century. Aware of his father's inflexibility of purpose, he set his wits to work to defeat the design. Politely Ah Cum stooped and recovered the photograph. But on this matter my mind is quite made up. The tables were then cleared. “I wish I could make every woman, every girl, see this as clearly as I see it—just what the Vote means to us. The veins in his throat and forehead swelled and blackened; his eyes protruded from their sockets, and stared wildly; a thick damp gathered on his brow: and blood gushed from his mouth, nostrils, and ears.
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