“What happened to your parents, Lucy? Is it all right if I ask?” Lucy looked at her with a soft gaze. 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. There’s a hansom coming round the corner. Sheppard.
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