was something disconcerting about that brow and the eyes like her father's—probably have her own way! Then he remembered that he must have noticed a badge pinned to the left lapel of a jacket that had been fashioned—with no great difficulty, he thought—to give its wearer the appearance of perfect physical development. He couldn't remember when he had precisely noted this badge, perhaps in some frenzied moment in the game's delirium, but it was vividly before him now—"VOTES FOR WOMEN!" What did that signify in her character? Perhaps something not too pleasant.
Still—he lived again through the smile that had seemed to speak.
| · | · | · | · | · | · | · |
Three days later, at the close of an afternoon's grinding work, the grim old man at the desk looked up as Bean was leaving the room.
"S'good game!"
"Fine!" said Bean, as he closed the door.
But for this reference and one other circumstance Bean might have supposed that Breede had forgotten the day. The other circumstance was an area of rich yellowish purple on the arm which Breede had madly gripped in moments of ecstasy, together with painful spots on his right side where the elbow of Breede had almost continuously jabbed him.
