"I was coming to give you intelligence of a comical trick played by this rascal, when I find him here—the last place, I own, where I should have expected to find him. He laughed lightly. Blueskin answered by dashing his head violently against the flagged floor. 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. He hung vaguely for a moment as she passed. CHAPTER VIII. If only one might open the shutters and let in the light.
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