There were some deepseated fears of the rot spreading to England, if the simmering discontent of the peasantry of France were to erupt any further. She has no proof—yet. But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am.
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