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. "Come on, my lads!" vociferated Blueskin, "we'll unkennel the old fox. I am going to smoke a little here, and then I shall go to the study.
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