He might call her wife, but she refused to give him his wedding night. "Ah!" exclaimed Sir James. 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. If only he had known it, sympathy was almost entirely with him. go. He touched her breast as if he was testing the waters of a cold lake. Now how in the world was he to get rid of the husband? His luck was in.
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