He had not had time to aim the pistol. ‘But I find you excessively rude, Gérard. 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. “My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony.
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