Part 5 The next morning she waited in the laboratory at the lunch-hour in the reasonable certainty that he would come to her. 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. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. ’ ‘Don’t be a fool, woman,’ snapped Charvill, thrusting himself further into the room. ‘You seem to understand the gentry very well.
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