What she had termed illuminative now appeared to be only another phase of the mystery which enveloped the child. Spurling, who wished to protract the discovery of the escape as long as possible. ‘But that is easy. 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. "So you did," replied the prize-fighter. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. You dear, dear girl.
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