These thoughts, however, came to a broken end. 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. “Julian, please, let’s go to your place. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. He must never refuse her anything which was within his power to grant—anything (he modified) which did not lead to his motives.
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