He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. 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. "And, does any of our bright blood flow in the veins of a ruffianly housebreaker?" cried Trenchard, with a look of bewilderment. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. “You appear,” she said, without any sign of anger in her tone, and with unruffled composure, “to be a very impertinent person. Not alone with her, that’s sure. "I shouldn't wonder," replied Mrs.
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