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He passed his arm under that of the constable, and drew him aside. “I suppose most people’s letters are queer. ‘She’s still bleeding. 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. She spoke readily enough, but there was a new timidity in her manner.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 08:15:47