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'm a peace-officer," he added, "about to arrest a notorious criminal. She was a merry creature, it is true, and quite beautiful. ” “Well?” “I went from Anna’s flat to Nigel Ennison’s rooms. You are wholly in my power. Then she goes to a dramatic agent.
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