“There is my aunt,” she said. “But you do not know,” she whispered, “whether I am a married woman or not. 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. The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. ‘You and Jarvis Remenham both, yes. He bowed over her hand, venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface. “I just wanted you to see that the time will come when I must leave you, and the time is coming soon. A day will come when you will thank me.
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