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. " "Bring him here,—let me see him—let me embrace him—let me be assured that he is safe, and I am yours. No need to do such things. You have thought it worth while to take some considerable pains to resolve for yourself my sister’s identity. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. He's had a hard knock somewhere; and until he is strong enough to walk, we must keep his interest away from that thought.
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