"A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. He kissed her at the door. ‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open. What you said wanted saying. “Not to-night,” she said. 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. Then she examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by her side.
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