’ Gerald grinned. 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. Wood, terrified by the wildness of her looks. There was no answer. Treading with noiseless step over the soft mould, they soon reached the building. "You will not make it valueless in my eyes," he added, catching her in his arms, and pressing her to his breast.
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