"You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship. “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. " "I will yield it to no one but its mother," answered Wood.
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