She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. " "As you please," replied Jonathan, sternly. 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. His vision was becoming accustomed to the faint light now and her features were clearer.
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