The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. Moving to the shuttered window, Melusine dragged the heavy drapes back. “That is where my cervix should be. 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. The streets were full of colour. " "I will. " "What can be done for him?" cried Thames.
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