Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. . 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. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. " "The very idea is dreadful," whimpered Edgeworth Bess.
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