I’ll be waiting for you outside. “I ought to look up Gwen,” she said. ” “I didn’t mind that little argument. 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. Gerald tried it. When she came to, she was lying with her head in Martha’s lap, and a livid bruise was forming at the point of a raging headache.
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