“I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. "But you mustn't indulge these gloomy thoughts. We will go to the passage and then I shall bind you. 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. She was still fully dressed; so all she had to do was to pause before the mirror and give her hair a few pats. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side.
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