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It had been her home for hundreds of years. The major’s hand stilled. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. Open it. 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. If only—Anna, tell me,” she broke off suddenly, “how did you get to know Mr. She hissed in a breath and his eyes met hers.
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