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. "Good gracious! so I do," exclaimed his amiable consort. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. When he arrived at Hoxton, he found the walls covered with placards offering a reward for his apprehension, and he everywhere appeared to be the general subject of conversation. As she learned more and more of his knowledge, she began to realize how much faith and trust he invested in her.
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