"Close the door!" commanded Trenchard, impatiently. 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 visualized him as in a policeman’s uniform and quite impassive. I’ll have to wait here, of course, which means you, Hilary—’ ‘Will have to do tomorrow’s patrol. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. Hope you ate light before you got here.
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