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. But I may yet live to thwart them. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. Ann Veronica sat back with a sigh of relief. At this point a carriage with servants in sumptuous liveries was stationed. We may be all murdered in this unprotected place, and nobody be the wiser. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. Sheppard. Earles. This lover of yours—” “He doesn’t know!” cried Ann Veronica.
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