Each time a daughter had been born to him he had concealed his chagrin with great tenderness and effusion from his wife, and had sworn unwontedly and with passionate sincerity in the bathroom. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. “Freedom! Citizenship! And the way to that—the way to everything—is the Vote. He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly. Do help me, Lady Ferringhall.
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