She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. And now for the fawney— the ring I mean. "Adorable girl, I have long loved you to desperation. I don’t know why he was allowed into the system in the first place, but he had two kids of his own. 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. Here they were regaled with another plentiful meal by the hospitable carpenter, who personally superintended the repast. Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks.
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