By a sort of instinct. 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. "At a thought. And he had good reason before long to congratulate himself on his forbearance. We LIKED each other well enough. She found him reclined, watching television in a small guest room hidden in a back wing of the massive house. ’ The lady stamped her foot.
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