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“Annabel,” she said brusquely. 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. She perceived she had never really thought of any one but herself in all her acts and plans. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew. She left for good after he fell asleep.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 29-06-2024 23:08:14
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