Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. Let me only wear your livery. They would be partners only in loneliness. To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether. This was not exactly what the woollen-draper desired. “I’ve tried to make words tell it.
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