"Heaven have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Wood. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. He was well mounted, as was his companion; and had pistols in his holsters, and a hanger at his girdle. 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. " The girl fished into the bottle for an olive.
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