“I suppose I should let go if I had. 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. Melusine was unable to repulse him—even had she tried. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun.
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