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. "I have good news for you. I MUST. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations.
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