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. What she had termed illuminative now appeared to be only another phase of the mystery which enveloped the child. Papa doesn't even care, but he just goes along with whatever my Mom says. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. " "De duivel!" exclaimed Van Galgebrok, "Very well.
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