She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. You do not make me afraid like this. She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. ” It was as if she faced a darkness in which was something very beautiful and wonderful as yet unimagined.
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