At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. He subjected me there to great annoyance by claiming me as his wife. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs. She is no more English than that set of beggars over there. She hung for a moment, and then went on, conclusively, “Until we have the vote that is how things WILL be. By this time, the churchyard was crowded with spectators, some of whom dispersed in different directions in quest of the other robber. She still kicked herself for it.
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