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 forbid you to do that. Neither of these wards had beds, and the unfortunate inmates were obliged to take their rest on the oaken floor. He's rewriting Poe and De Maupassant; and that stuff was good only when Poe and De Maupassant wrote it.
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