" "Nor Jonathan Wild, I hope," interposed Sheppard. She was frowning, but it was evident that her initial fright had left her. 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. "Mother!" cried Jack, springing towards her. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald.
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