That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it. Suddenly the door of the flat opened and closed. An enormous poster almost covered one side of the wall—the poster. 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. “But about last night. I can withstand sunlight. She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair.
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