"To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. 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. Mr. In an instant, she turned on him. Certainly, we—that is Jarvis and I— knew nothing of it until after Mary’s death.
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