The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. “You’ve no right to badger me like this, Veronica,” he said. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. “You fill me with happiness, John. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn.
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