"I can do without it," muttered Jack. 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. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first. He passed his arm under that of the constable, and drew him aside. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. She lifted her shoulders in an eloquent shrug. what’s your name again?” He asked.
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