Simply. 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. ‘What was you wanting it for, may I ask?’ ‘You may not ask, for it is none of your affair,’ Melusine snapped. I swear to you, solemnly swear to you, I will save your son's life, nay more, will befriend him, will place him out of the reach of his enemies, if you consent to become my wife. Scissors with which to cut her hair, just in case. "By George!" he exclaimed. It had a tiny flaw, most bizarre. I'll keep a look out that nothing happens.
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