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. He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. ’ She dropped to her knees before her old nurse and hugged the workroughened hand with both her own, looking up into Martha’s face where slow tears were tracing down her cheek.
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