From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. The porter instantly made his appearance, and Sheppard ordered him to take care of the horses. 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. “You have the temperament,” he said.
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