’ Grudgingly, the sergeant shifted aside and allowed her access to the stairs, grumbling to her retreating back, ‘If I’d me way, missie, I’d send you back to France where you ought never to have come away from, if you arst me. Sometimes she missed her cue and nodded affirmatively when the gesture should have been the reverse; and Prudence would send her a sharp glance of disapproval. It was a mass of knick-knacks. “Who, me? I scare you?” He asked. She was very excited. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. “I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally.
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