What the devil is her name, now we know she isn’t you?’ ‘Yolande,’ supplied Melusine. 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. “He will probably make a statement to-night. Melusine did not try to fight her captor, for that would only make him angry.
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