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. You never can go back. It would make my wife very happy. "Enough!" rejoined Wild; "he shall not return. I want him immediately, so you can send Frith with my phaeton if you like. Fifty sent home. Wood, delighted at the idea.
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