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. ‘You do not believe me?’ ‘I do not. “But why now? Don’t boys know that I am involved with John right now?” “That’s not the way it works, Lucy. Want to walk home today? Lucy slipped the paper into her English textbook. It is your own choice, isn’t it?” She nodded.
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