“Oh, you'd larf, would yer!” shrieked the deserted spouse. “You hold proflergate, I believe you done it on purpose!”
“Me?” gasped Fisher. “You ill-tempered, noisy—”
But before he could finish this impeachment he received Mrs. Fulcher's right fist on his nose, followed by a fierce charge of her whole massive person; and in another moment the office of the women's mission was the scene of as desperate a conflict as the bastion of the Malakoff. Kate screamed once and then shut her lips, and watched the struggle with a very pale face, while I hurled myself impetuously upon the Amazon and endeavored to seize her arms.
“Police! Call the police!” shouted Fisher.
“Perlice, perlice,” echoed his enemy. “I'll per-lice yer, yer dirty, himmoral hold 'ulk!”
And bang, bang, went her fists against the side of his head.
“Idiot, virago, stop!” I cried, compressing her swinging arm to her side at last.
“Send for the police!” boomed the hapless Fisher.
“Police!” came the frenzied voice of the caretaker at the front door.
“I'll smash yer bloomin' 'ead like a bloomin' cocoanut!” shouted Mrs. Fulcher, bringing the other arm into play.