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. “If you must go on with it,” said Hetty, “now’s your time. Whisky kills him suddenly; it does not sap him gradually. And because he knew it was a burden, there was no gaiety upon the doctor's face; neither was there speech on his tongue.
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