‘Ha! It’s you, is it?’ He threw a glance at his two juniors. She would always be waiting upon this boy, he mused. 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. " "Oh, Jack!" cried his mother, falling upon his neck, and covering him with kisses. . ‘Your mystery lady, I mean.
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