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. His manner, however, was as stern and haughty as ever, and his glances retained their accustomed fire. “Michelle, I don’t ever want to hear you mention the subject you mentioned at dinner again.
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