She stood up before him, smiling faintly. 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. Wood, severely, "and go to bed. “My child, I do not wish. ’” Anna made no remark. Sometimes a whole morning would pass without Spurlock uttering a word beyond the request for a drink of water. Yes, there was someone there.
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