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. From me. " No sooner had Wood crept through the window, than nature gave way, and he fainted. And lunged once more. There had been fusses and scenes dimly apprehended through half-open doors. “There wasn’t.
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