There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. Never had he been so intrigued. ’ ‘Well, sir? Who is “she”? Not my granddaughter, I take it. He struck out from the shoulder, and the man measured his length upon the pavement.
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