"Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. ’ ‘I don’t even know your granddaughter, ma’am. Meantime, as the doctor was splitting his breakfast orange, he heard a commotion in his office, two rooms removed: volleys of pidgin English, one voice in protest, the other dominant. And he who opposes me in it shall feel the weight of my hand. 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. “You, anyhow, don’t deserve it,” he said. Give me the keys and the light.
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