Sheppard, faintly. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. We'll lather him with mud, shave him with a rusty razor, and drench him with aqua pompaginis. Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. She was as fair as the lily of the lotus. It appeared from what he said that he had been captured when asleep,—that his liquor had been drugged,—otherwise, he would never have allowed himself to be taken alive. The arrested women were herded in a passage of the Panton Street Police-station that opened upon a cell too unclean for occupation, and most of them spent the night standing. But she perceived that to tell Manning of her Ramage adventures as they had happened would be like tarring figures upon a water-color.
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