One day they were at tea in the laboratory and a discussion sprang up about the question of women’s suffrage. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. "Here, Poll, help me!" Thus exhorted, Mrs. Sheppard, faintly. “I am very glad to hear you say it,” he repeated, and refrained from further inquiry. "But vere'll be the use o' vinnin'? you von't live to pay me. His voice had broken. This is your choice.
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