‘What happened, ma’am?’ enquired Gerald gently. Sheppard. “Now you look happy. I am going to help take care of him," said Ruth, quite ordinarily, as though taking care of unknown derelicts was an ordinary event in her life. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. I’ll need you to go back to the barracks and fetch more men up to town.
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