The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. 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. It was not the type of household where one could come and go at all hours, for this she was glad. ‘And you!’ shrieked Melusine. His face fell. The unfortunate carpenter struggled violently, but ineffectually.
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