It’s no good. 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 fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. Here were imprisoned the fines; and, "perhaps," adds the before-cited authority, "if he behaved himself, an outlawed person might creep in among them. . There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. Manning would on no account do, though he was tall and dark and handsome and kind, and thirty-five and adequately prosperous, and all that a husband should be. He advanced a step towards her.
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