Been in the wars with both the major and Capting Roding, I have,’ Trodger informed her loftily. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face. There was just time for the girl to raise her arm to chest height and draw it back before Roding seized her. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica.
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