We needn’t try and give ourselves airs. But it don't much matter—though he's a devilish shrewd fellow, and might have helped me out of a difficulty, had any occurred. The thousand voices which a few moments before had been so clamorous were now hushed. "Leave his punishment to me, Jack," said Mrs. 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. Dreams of adorable infants danced through her head as she cradled blankets in her arms. Her anger died and she eyed him. Fascination.
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