‘No, let me guess,’ he interrupted. "Certainly," replied Jonathan, with the most perfect sangfroid, "I'll undertake to free you from the boy. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. 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. ’ Mrs Sindlesham abruptly sat up straighter in her chair.
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