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. I am sorry to seem to hurt you, but all I say is for your good. I must break open the door. “There are some people,” he said at last, “who seem fated to carry on their shoulders the burdens of other people.
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