Martin came to the door, looking radiant and relieved. I cannot protect you. ‘I will make certain that we are unobserved. But indeed that is not at all a good description of her attitude. 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.
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