” She spat in his face. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. "I understand," she said. A neat tale, giving little away. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. Suddenly she became worthy of attention again and her husband teased her and joked with her as Sebastian openly admired her beauty, teasing her and patting her shoulders, pulling off her headscarf. “The Vote is the symbol of everything,” said Miss Brett.
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