Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. "What's that?" asked Wild. What were your findings?” Lucy asked. “A thick-set, coarse-looking young man, Anna!” she exclaimed in a hoarse excited whisper. 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. Can you afford to give this time? There are your own affairs to think of. Suddenly he came to a stop, his mouth agape.
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