She married my Dad in a small ceremony down at City Hall. " "Alas! that one so highly born should submit to such a degradation?" groaned the knight. 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. “You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads.
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