She entered and approached the bunk. 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 concern us all. Such ambitions as he had were stereotyped and material. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob.
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