‘Give me an opportunity to open my mouth, and I will. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. “Uh, I think I might, Shari.
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