’ ‘You wouldn’t,’ agreed Mrs Sindlesham. Sc. There were white men with families, a fine mission-house, and a club-house for cards and billiards. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. It seemed to encapsulate the mosquito like a little piece of moonlight, it was talismanic to her. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Voting wouldn’t do no ‘arm to ‘er.
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