’ The mention of Alderley’s name, as Roding had confidently expected, caused the soldiers’ eyes to veer across to the young lady again, this time with a good deal less sympathy, and much more uncertainty. Yet here you are, and at precisely the right moment, too. She sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed, the roses cradled in her arms. It probably still wouldn’t help. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she.
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