She lay very still and closed her eyes, hear tears gliding off of her ears, causing them to itch. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to. My politics in that matter wouldn’t be to give women votes. There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions.
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