Mrs Sindlesham raised her brows. Her cheeks were aflame. Don’t look so frightened. 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. ’ ‘You know, Gerald,’ Lucilla put in thoughtfully, forestalling a withering rejoinder from the captain, ‘there may be something in that. Married the other and ran off after Mary died. I mean Miss Charvill no harm. It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. ” He sat like a man turned to stone.
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