She could tell it was new territory for him and he might lose the nerve to take them off himself, without the aid of drink. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. Lose not a moment, Hobson. You know—if you want freedom. " Here the chapmen set up another boisterous peal. Wood!" "Leave go!" thundered Blueskin—"leave go—you'd better!"—and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched for his knife.
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