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” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. 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. The carpenter well knew from the obstacle which had interfered with his own progress, that the unknown could not have passed through the same lock as himself.
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