He liked to draw her in, and she did her best to talk. It was not a hopeful looking group. "I've won, after all. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. 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. It was better even than the hymn-singing. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You should have gone to Charvill.
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