Jill darted forward

　　Jill darted forward. Always a girl who believed that, if you want athing well done,replica chanel handbags, you must do it yourself, she had applied to Freddiefor assistance merely as a matter of form,cheap moncler clerance. All the time she had feltthat Freddie was a broken reed, and such he had proved himself.
　　Freddie's policy in this affair was obviously to rely on the magic ofspeech, and any magic his speech might have had was manifestly offsetby the fact that he was wearing white spats and that Henry,apparently, belonged to some sort of league or society which had forits main object the discouragement of white spats. It was plainly nogood leaving the conduct of the campaign to Freddie. Whatever was tobe done must be done by herself. She seized the stick and wrenched itout of Henry's hand.
　　"Woof-woof-woof!" said Bill the parrot.
　　No dispassionate auditor could have failed to detect the nasty ringof sarcasm. It stung Henry. He was not normally a man who believed inviolence to the gentler sex outside a clump on the head of his missuswhen the occasion seemed to demand it: but now he threw away theguiding principles of a lifetime and turned on Jill like a tiger.
　　"Gimme that stick!""Get back!""Here, I say, you know!" said Freddie.
　　Henry, now thoroughly overwrought, made a rush at Jill: and Jill, whohad a straight eye,fake uggs boots, hit him accurately on the side of the head.
　　"Goo!" said Henry, and sat down.
　　And then, from behind Jill, a voice spoke.
　　"What's all this?"A stout policeman had manifested himself from empty space.
　　"This won't do!" said the policeman.
　　Erb, who had been a silent spectator of the fray, burst into speech.
　　"She 'it 'im!"The policeman looked at Jill. He was an officer of many years'
　　experience in the Force, and time had dulled in him that respectfor good clothes which he had brought with him fromLittle-Sudbury-in-the-Wold in the days of his novitiate. Jill waswell-dressed, but, in the stirring epoch of the Suffrage disturbances,the policeman had been kicked on the shins and even bitten by ladiesof an equally elegant exterior. Hearts, the policeman knew, just aspure and fair may beat in Belgrave Square as in the lowlier air ofSeven Dials, but you have to pinch them just the same when theydisturb the peace. His gaze, as it fell upon Jill, red-handed as itwere with the stick still in her grasp, was stern.
　　"Your name, please, and address, miss?" he said.
　　A girl in blue with a big hat had come up, and was standing staringopen-mouthed at the group. At the sight of her Bill the parrot uttereda shriek of welcome. Nelly Bryant had returned, and everything wouldnow be all right again.
　　"Mariner," said Jill, pale and bright-eyed. "I live at NumberTwenty-two, Ovington Square.""And yours, sir?""Mine? Oh, ah, yes. I see what you mean. Rooke, you know. F. L.
　　Rooke. I live at the Albany and all that sort of thing."The policeman made an entry in his note-book. "Officer," cried Jill,"this man was trying to kill that parrot and I stopped him. . . .""Can't help that, miss. You 'adn't no right to hit a man with astick. You'll 'ave to come along,air jordans for sale.""But, I say, you know!" Freddie was appalled. This sort of thing hadhappened to him before, but only on Boat-Race Night at the Empire,where it was expected of a chappie. "I mean to say!""And you too, sir. You're both in it.""But . . .""Oh, come along, Freddie," said Jill quietly. "It's perfectly absurd,but it's no use making a fuss.""That," said the policeman cordially, "is the right spirit!".