She still had her letter of credit. Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way. But a man’s opposition always inclined her to the suffrage side; she had a curious feeling of loyalty in seeing the more aggressive women through. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. Eventually her movements carried her to the little stand at the side of the bed. There were always parrots and parrakeets screaming in the fruit groves.
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