‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. 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. That’s the fact about them. ‘You do not use your head, Emile,’ she said flatly. Let us proceed with our tale.
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