" "Have you told her?" "Told her? Told her what?" Spurlock sat straight in his chair. “For no other reason than you talk too much. I am ready to wait for you, to wait your pleasure, to give all my life to winning it. “Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered. 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. Here, might be seen a poor fellow whose teeth were knocked down his throat, spluttering out the most tremendous menaces, and gesticulating like a madman: there, another, whose nose was partially slit, vented imprecations and lamentations in the same breath. He was no match for Brendon.
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