In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. He drew an awed breath. With the broken links of the chain, which served him in lieu of more efficient implements, he commenced operations just above the chimney-piece, and soon contrived to pick a hole in the plaster. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. “Before I took up the Suffrage,” a firm, flat voice remarked, “I could scarcely walk up-stairs without palpitations. " "It came from Lady Trafford's jewel-box. Miss Garvice repeated again, and almost in the same words she used at every discussion, her contribution to the great question. Lucy’s bright tones pursued her. Something, I'm convinced, has happened to the boys.
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