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. . They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. Certainly, there wasn't a thing in the pockets.
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