"So you're writing under a nom de plume, eh?" said McClintock, holding out the letter. I done just what you asked. ” “Not in the least,” Anna answered calmly. I didn’t understand. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. " "I am calm—perfectly calm," replied Winifred. Anna watched her with curious eyes.
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