"Take it," cried Wood, holding the infant towards her; "take it, and fly. He returned, blue towel in hand. 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. " "Rely on me," rejoined Kneebone. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool.
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