Lucy sighed, finding it odd to switch roles as she had over the past weeks. How many nuns were there in England who might have occasion to spy on Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom? The presence of the French refugees took on greater significance. You understand me, I’m sure. A girl of fifteen or sixteen gave her a handbill that she regarded as a tract until she saw “Votes for Women” at the top. The next morning came a compact letter from her father.
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