I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. 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. Miss Klegg and the youngest girl made a vigorous attack on Miss Garvice, who had said she thought women lost something infinitely precious by mingling in the conflicts of life. “I love some one else. “That’s it,” she said. “It’s too bad. “Very well,” said her father. “Come,” he continued, “the world after all is a very small place. We stopped for a moment to watch it, and almost immediately it was turned out.
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