" "No more of this," rejoined Thames, "or we shall quarrel. I bear the marks of some of them about me still," he continued, taking off his wig, and laying bare a bald skull, covered with cicatrices and plates of silver. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow of the excellent Madeira before responding. “I expect it is pretty well in shreds by now. He opened his eyes, protestingly, and beheld the realization of his dream. 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. Probably something he had eaten.
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