"Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. “If only I could afford another!” she thought regretfully. 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. "You will not make it valueless in my eyes," he added, catching her in his arms, and pressing her to his breast.
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