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"I got to do my duty," said the little policeman, with a face that was
white and resolute.
"You lea' me alone. I got to live as well as you. I got to think. I got
to eat. You lea' me alone."
"It's the Law," said the little policeman, coming no further. "We never
made the Law."
"Nor me," said young Caddles. "You little people made all that before I
was born. You and your Law! What I must and what I mustn't! No food for
me to eat unless I work a slave, no rest, no shelter, nothin', and you
tell me--"
"I ain't got no business with that," said the policeman. "I'm not one to
argue. All I got to do is to carry out the Law." And he brought his
second leg over the wall and seemed disposed to get down. Other
policemen appeared behind him.
"I got no quarrel with you--mind," said young Caddles, with his grip
tight upon his huge mace of iron, his face pale, and a lank explanatory
great finger to the policeman. "I got no quarrel with you. But--You
lea' me alone."
The policeman tried to be calm and commonplace, with a monstrous tragedy
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