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. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. ’ Jack Kimble took a deep breath. Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife.
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