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. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. "The marriage was never consummated," continued the imperturbable stranger. This incredible scene robbed him of the sense of locomotion.
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