‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. “It was inevitable,” he declared. 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've just recollected that my husband left a key with me, which he charged me to give you when I could find an opportunity.
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