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She answered him almost coldly. 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. "Oh! Sir, if you'd seen her as I've seen her, you'd not wish her a continuance of misery. Howsomdever, if you should reach t'other side, take an old feller's advice, and don't be foolhardy enough to venter back again. “Who are you—Annabel Pellissier or her ghost?” Anna laughed. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another.
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