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. " "Impossible!" rejoined his mother. So, by way of gaining time, he resolved to question him further. "How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. “Alone, dear?” “Yes, aunt. "What has delayed you?" demanded the knight impatiently. "What is it you want of me?" "All you know about this young fellow Spurlock. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other.
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