All his dreams shattered in an instant. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. “It is a great art,” she said in broken English. ” “You did,” Anna exclaimed. ‘Or flew in by balloon, perhaps. ‘Allow me. 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. As pretty as its owner.
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