What might it have been?’ Mrs Sindlesham shook her head helplessly. 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. Ah! but you can’t imagine what you are to me and what you mean to me! I suppose there is something mystical and wonderful about all women. The hurricane appeared to have raged in this quarter with tenfold fury.
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