“The Vote is the symbol of everything,” said Miss Brett. " "Oh, Jack!" cried his mother, falling upon his neck, and covering him with kisses. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. ‘Here we go again. ” She stopped abruptly, afraid that Ramage might be able to infer Capes from the things she had said, and indeed his face was very eager. As the lapse of time and change of circumstances have wrought a remarkable alteration in the appearance of the poor widow, it may not be improper to notice it here.
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