“The Vote is the symbol of everything,” said Miss Brett. Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who was enjoying himself. “Come,” she said. CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. "Only the dog," replied the rough tones of a man. It was a brief solitude, however. How she hated talking of the man who was responsible for her being brought into the world. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford.
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