‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. ‘Civilian peace-keeping forces, you know. So far the thing was acceptable enough. She had delicate oval features, light, laughing blue eyes, a pretty nez retroussé, (why have we not the term, since we have the best specimens of the feature?) teeth of pearly whiteness, and a brilliant complexion, set off by rich auburn hair, a very white neck and shoulders,—the latter, perhaps, a trifle too much exposed.
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