“Dear me!” he said. They unloaded Michelle’s sleeping parents who had been propped up in the back seat, necks craned against each other. The stranger with a bow returned to his table. ‘Now then, girl. "Is it gold?" "Pure gold," replied Kneebone. ’ He grinned. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child.
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