He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. But I can't consent to the course you would pursue—at least, not till I've given it due consideration. He refused. He had only been prevented, indeed, by a fear of Mrs. ‘I’m a soldier, missie. They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path.
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