“I’d sooner condemn you to Hell. ” Sir John smiled and congratulated himself upon his insight. Anna and her escort exchanged glances. ‘I’m taking you to Gerald, my girl. 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. The only departure which he made from the fashion of the period, was in respect to the peruke—an article he could never be induced to wear.
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