I went off to round up his wife. 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. "Drink this, then," roared Blueskin. It was the only time she had ever hit him, punched him right in the stomach like one of his favorite Three Stooges episodes.
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