" "Oh Heavens!" cried Jack, driven to his wits' end. Teddy was the hatless young man who had turned Ann Veronica aside from the Avenue two days before. 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. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. "Yale? Why, so am I. We shall both, I hope, live to enjoy our shares—long after Thames Darrell is forgotten—ha! ha! A third of your estate I accept. I did not know what I was saying.
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