He had a wild impulse to shout. He thought her only an orphan in search of her English relatives. 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. And we’re going to fight that old world down there. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. I suspect he has a bit of vanity. She could see that he was curious, so she sat upon him and they rocked back and forth.
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