‘I’m a soldier, missie. You heard her. Rhea went down, screeching and clawing at the air for the sword, which clanked heavily on the ground. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared. Giles's. The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome.
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