Let alone a girl. You have the look in your eyes to-night which you had that day, the look of a frightened child. “I WILL be arrested! I WON’T go home!” the little old lady was screaming over and over again. The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica’s mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style.
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