He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. He wore a long coat, beautifully flowered, and a hat with a turned up brim. Marry, come up! I've been a great deal too charitable. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. The carpenter trembled; for he perceived Rowland's gaze fixed first upon the infant, and then on himself. “Julian! I was worried that. “Don’t you have a wife? Where are your children?” She asked.
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