Gianfrancesco never suspected that I had my own reasons for wanting you for my wife. And I have wanted to so very much. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. 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. He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. His grief was so audible, that it attracted the notice of some of the bystanders, and Thames was obliged to beg him to control it.
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