“What can one say?” she exclaimed. 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. They were silent for a time. For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. No man knew whence she had come nor why. “How I am to earn enough sous for my dinner to-morrow—or failing that, what I can sell.
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