"To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul. Yet either the rest or the wine seemed already to have done him good. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable. Her heartbeat quickened. “What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her.
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