’ ‘Well, I am glad he did not,’ intervened Lucilla, forestalling another withering comment from the captain. She shook them off of one foot. 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. Lucy could see her striding down a Parisian catwalk quite easily.
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