One day they were at tea in the laboratory and a discussion sprang up about the question of women’s suffrage. What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage. Do you think it’s nothing to me to have my daughter running about London looking for odd jobs and disgracing herself?” “Sha’n’t get odd jobs,” said Ann Veronica, wiping her eyes.
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