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. McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might. ’ ‘Yes, Hilary, do stop hustling the girl,’ put in Miss Froxfield, much to Melusine’s relief and approval. “Hola Marteen!” She exclaimed cheerfully. Sheppard prepared for church. ” “I’ve told you,” he said.
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