. ” “That is provokingly indefinite,” he answered, a little ruefully. "You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner. Sir John waved her back. "I leave this bowl for you," he cried, returning it to the landlord untasted. 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. It was a betrayal of God and her former family, but all in all was much easier. Couple of guineas to drink Captain Sheppard's speedy escape. A young man was playing the banjo. John was acutely focused upon her now, just as she had wanted him to be.
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