" "Here you have it, my dear," returned the hawker. 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. At any rate, he began to deliberately personate him. “Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath. "Why, this is your writing Dolly, and addressed to Mr.
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