The poor old
gentleman put me back for the missionary to find out who I was, and to
ascertain the state of my mind. I wouldnt tell, of course, for your
sakes at home here; and I wouldnt say I was sorry, or apologize to the
policeman, or compensate him or anything of that sort. I wasnt sorry.
The one thing that gave me any satisfaction was getting in that smack
on his mouth; and I said so. So the missionary reported that I seemed
hardened and that no doubt I would tell who I was after a day in
prison. Then I was sentenced. So now you see I'm not a bit the sort
of girl you thought me. I'm not a bit the sort of girl I thought
myself. And I dont know what sort of person you really are, or what
sort of person father really is. I wonder what he would say or do if
he had an angry brute of a policeman twisting his arm with one hand
and rushing him along by the nape of his neck with the other. He
couldnt whirl his leg like a windmill and knock a policeman down by a
glorious kick on the helmet. Oh, if theyd all fought as we two fought
we'd have beaten them.
MRS KNOX. But how did it all begin?
MARGARET. Oh, I dont know. It was boat-race night, they said.
MRS KNOX. Boat-race night! But what had you to do with the boat
race? You went to the great Salvation Festival at the Albert Hall
with your aunt. She put you into the bus that passes the door. What
made you get out of the bus?
MARGARET. I dont know.
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