E. “Could you play ‘Fiddler on the Roof’?” father Thomas pleaded. 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. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. The doctor turned quickly and made for the door, which he opened and shut gently because he was assured that Ruth was listening across the hall for any sign of violence.
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