“But how can you?” asked Constance. The boy’s besotted. To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether. “You cowards!” said Ann Veronica, “put her down!” and tore herself from a detaining hand and battered with her fists upon the big red ear and blue shoulder of the policeman who held the little old lady. In the grate were some charred fragments of a marriage certificate.
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