An old woman took her in. I’ve—dreads. 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. And, without another word, he seized the table with both hands, and upset it; scattering plates, dishes, bottles, jugs, and glasses far and wide. ‘I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 25-09-2024 16:29:36