Martha had not been pleased to find her spare one borrowed for that expedition when the major had found her outside the ballroom. 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. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days.
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