She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions. 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. They had not so far been of much personal interest to Gerald, but tonight was different. Everybody looked askance at everybody else. I shall make no defence. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. But it must have been something that could show her to be Mary’s daughter. “No, I am alone,” she answered. Mike seemed visibly happier at her remark. Possessed, at one time, of a share in the South Sea stock, he conceived himself worth twenty thousand pounds. She was dressed in a little white frock, with a very long body, and very short sleeves, which looked (from a certain fullness about the hips,) as if it was intended to be worn with a hoop. She felt that for a time at any rate her depressing struggle against continual failure was at an end. Sleep did not come easily, but eventually her mind stopped its chattering and she fell into a deep slumber.
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