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. Presently he resumed: “I believe I must be in love. "Curse him!" muttered Abraham. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. Good looks, with a melancholy cast, always drew sentimental females. She had expected sympathetic admiration, but instead the whole Widgett family, except Teddy, expressed a common dismay.
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