My politics in that matter wouldn’t be to give women votes. "That is good. ” A shade of concern darkened Carol Diedermayer’s face. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. It was a haunted place. "Your son," answered the boy.
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