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. ‘But you said she was looking for proof. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. Abruptly she got out of bed, smoothed her sheet and straightened her pillow and lay down, and fell almost instantly asleep. —BRENDON. How I wish I might meet this delightful mystery lady of yours. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere.
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