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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. Pottiswick had mentioned muttering. It must be the dawn creeping in. ” He went to the window and fidgeted with the blind, looking out to where the tree-tops of Regent’s Park showed distantly over the houses. My nerves are shaken. I am come to rescue you from Wild's violence.
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