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. “Happened! Oh, many things,” she declared indolently. "Well, it's a good story. ‘Coward,’ she threw at him, brandishing the sword. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. This was irregular. ’ ‘Which is exactly what started us off,’ Gerald said to his friend with a grin, as he gave up his injured hand to the other’s ministrations. ” “Yes,” she said, and abruptly she liked him enormously. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. “I won’t give you a check though—Yes, I will.
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