Jack seemed glad enough to rest, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes. But she must stop him getting away. He could hardly open the envelope, he trembled so. . He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. 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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