‘Good. “And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. Vorsack looked pale and pink. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. Miss Miniver learned of her flight and got her address from the Widgetts. Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other. She needed to protect the baby. ‘Kill him? Oh.
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