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. "And now let's see who'll dare to oppose me. Then he went on: “—and, indeed, to most of the established things in life is, frankly, unsatisfactory. A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look. She was too late.
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