All sorts of battered tramps, junks and riff-raff of the seas trailed in and out. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. A young man, who had been spending the last hour walking up and down on the opposite side of the way, came quickly over to her. ” Ann Veronica listened with her eyes on the fire.
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