A hand of iron fell upon the scowling young man’s shoulder. I wonder how it is,” she added, “that boys always make love so impertinently. I should feel that I had been obliged to find some one else to fight my battles for me. “You don’t want to go?” “No. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it.
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