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. “I heard they came from somewhere outrageous. Well, one must hope, that was all. Eric Vorsack still toiled at work. With people of that sort all sorts of things may happen. “Holy shit!” Giggling and snickering was amplified by asbestos tiles and reverberated by metal desks.
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