Then the storm broke. She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. 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 slipped her hand between them and grasped his erection. This done, he followed the course which Jack had just taken.
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