Wood thought them both remarkably plain, but Mr. Inquiring for Mrs. His name was Peter. 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. "Is it gold?" "Pure gold," replied Kneebone. It's a pity you wouldn't give me the prescription instead of the medicine, so I could have it filled nearer home.
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