The New Yorker (satire)

A 1914 Suffragist Explains Voting
The New Yorker (satire)
Why is it now “free”? That makes no sense. Anyway, I digress. Listen, I was married at nineteen to a coal merchant who boxed my ears if the mutton was cold. I recovered from scarlet fever only to endure cholera nearly every summer when the well went rank.

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