" "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, paralysed by her cries. She tossed her head, and, having no further words, moved toward the door. ‘So it is that you could not help it. ’ The core of hurt rose up, tearing at her insides. From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. His throat filled; he wanted to weep.
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