The girl only smiled at him serenely, but she laid her hand for a moment quietly upon his. "Let the gentleman take his own course," said Jonathan, mildly. “I can’t conceive what you want. She was perhaps three-and-twenty, and very pink and healthy-looking, showing a great deal of white and rounded neck above her business-like but altogether feminine blouse, and a good deal of plump, gesticulating forearm out of her short sleeve. One little minute with soap and water, voilà tout. 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. Sheppard.
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