Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. If only one might open the shutters and let in the light. 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. ” “But I can’t do that. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. ‘You see,’ he pursued blandly, ‘I lead a life of the most intolerable boredom. "Rather in the way. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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