"Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. He liked to draw her in, and she did her best to talk. "Your gratitude will vanish with your danger. The Yale spirit! Ah Cum smiled whimsically. F. 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.
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