A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. 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. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another. "Mother—dear mother! Once again, I beseech you to listen to me. Sheppard prepared for church.
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