That is the dreadful truth. 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. ” A dull flush burned upon his cheeks. ” Annabel leaned back in her chair and laughed till the tears stood in her eyes.
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