Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. “But if you weren’t keen on the suffrage business, why on earth did you go to prison?” Ann Veronica reflected. They were wed in Florence, in the grandest cathedral she had ever seen, the Santa Maria del Fiore. ‘At last,’ he cried, ‘I have found you!’ He would listen to nothing. His lawful wife; but nothing more; beyond that she was only an idea, a trust.
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