"Well, how goes it?" he asked. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. 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. ” “I couldn’t do that,” said Ann Veronica, sharply. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. “Never was such an age of transition. “I can get you,” Mr. " "She? My God, the pity of it! She knows nothing of life.
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