“So Brendon and I,” he said, “have been troubled with the same fears. 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. " "If you mean the fugitive, Darrell, he has escaped through the back window," replied Jonathan. "I don't know what I think," Wood answered sulkily; and he bent his eyes upon the water, as if he wished to avert his attention forcibly from the scene.
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