The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. 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. White men and natives dealt conveniently at Copeley's. She ran her gaze over him, and allowed her eyelashes to flutter down. .
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