Lucy jammed her foot down onto Mark McCloskey’s forehead. ‘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. “No reason. This lady is my wife, and I have a right to be here. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees.
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