She was perhaps three-and-twenty, and very pink and healthy-looking, showing a great deal of white and rounded neck above her business-like but altogether feminine blouse, and a good deal of plump, gesticulating forearm out of her short sleeve. “I do not understand. "I thought you'd have got rid of your ill-humour by this time. "Out of the beaten track, with a real man for an employer? How would that strike you?" Interest shot into Spurlock's eyes; it spread to his wan face. Agreeably he helped her take the shirt off. ” Mrs. Of course, I don't believe she's what you would call flush.
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