And the woollen-draper departed. ‘I must. ” They returned to the Beck house and he walked her to the front door. 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. \" She whirled around by instinct, frightening the boy who she had borrowed the pencil from.
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