256 Lucy chose her words carefully. She wasn’t sure of herself when she said it. A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset. 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. Greece was a different place.
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