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He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. 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. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. Nothing is of any concern of ours except the discovery of the man’s identity. " The tone was neutral. But when she spoke her lips quivered, and they came. “You look more like your old self when you smile,” he remarked. For if Gerald had indeed gone to see this Prudence, it was better to wait for his report.
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