But he looked back into the hall and spoke to the sergeant who could just be seen behind him. How did you get into this house?’ He shrugged. Gwen made an inquiry, and, directed by Mrs. 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. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness.
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