I sometimes laid away my father's clothes in his trunk. In fact, one of them was downright sceptical. Noiselessly, his booted feet stepping with careful restraint, he started forward, signalling to Roding to follow. The girl was flushed with excitement, bright-eyed, and braced for a struggle; her aunt had never seen her looking so fine or so pretty. The cook tried to ply her with spiced meat and fish soup. "All right," he said.
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