Anna suddenly leaned forward and looked around her. ” “I believe you,” she murmured. 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. With the same inducements we should all do the same thing. ” She looked at him quizzically.
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