" "I can't exactly say, Sir Rowland. " "You will never become that, Ruth. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. 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. ” He faced her doggedly. Fritz flailed against his mother wildly, crying generous tears. Finally she fell into reflection. Gerald glanced at Hilary and saw the stunned look on his face.
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