She taught him all the lore she had; about bird-life and tree-life and the changing mysteries of the sea. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. I’m starving. 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. She knew it.
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