" "Peace!" cried the knight, fiercely. He would make her rub her lips with waxes and other ointments, precursors of lipsticks. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. “I can’t conceive what you want. 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.
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