The young man looked at her. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. They fight over money all of the time. 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.
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