Wood—and after him came his daughter. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us. After occupying himself thus for the best part of an hour, he thought Jack must have given him the slip. 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.
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