Melusine recognised the burly form of Captain Roding’s sergeant. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. She was not allowed to bathe herself: another prisoner, with a privileged manner, washed her. There was a stain of wine upon her dress. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples.
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