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. Some have no males. Ann Veronica decided that “hoydenish ragger” was the only phrase to express her. " "That I will," replied Jack, "in the twinkling of a bedpost. With this view he struck off into a narrow street on the left, and soon entered a small alehouse, over the door of which hung the sign of the "Welsh Trumpeter.
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