"Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. “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. You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders.
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