” “Annabel is a prophetess,” he declared. It felt wonderful and golden to bask in the sunlight of their approval, even if their approval was fickle and dangerous. “I knew you would feel it,” said Miss Miniver, as they came away flushed and heated. 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.
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