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. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. ’ ‘This, monsieur le major, is entirely your own affair,’ said the lady, haughty again. Jordan and Josiah. ‘Looks like it.
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