Then for a time she sat very still. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically. “I suppose I should let go if I had. She admired and rather pitied him, and she was unfeignedly grateful to him.
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