She began to weep in long, aching sobs. It must be some days before you can arrange for her to make an identification. 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. ‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open. "More than you'll pay for it, friend," snuffled the Jew.
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