Spurling stood her negro attendant, Caliban; a hideous, misshapen, malicious monster, with broad hunched shoulders, a flat nose, and ears like those of a wild beast, a head too large for his body, and a body too long for his legs. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us. “There is no remedy, girls,” she began, breathlessly, “except the Vote. People, nobody, can do as they like in this world. ” 189 “Are you feeling okay?” She could feel a parade of ants dotting her skin.
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