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 passed down the stairs and into the street. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent.
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