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 did it for love of you,” he said. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. But Jack was too well versed in the geography of the place to attempt either of them. Now let us forget it. Some day I may forgive you; but not now. " "All right; and thank you. But I dare not accept it. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. His attention drawn, the captain was easily able to make out the pretty features under the feathered hat, and the same dark riding habit the fugitive had worn on that first occasion at Remenham House.
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