‘He could have little comfort there, indeed. 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. ” Lucy’s eyes smiled and a weary closed lipped smile arose on her face. But the orchestra had never had a finer hour, and everyone was aware of it.
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