She pulled down her veil and made her way to the door. Sheppard put out her arms mechanically. . 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 Albert, sir. McClintock, coming from below, saw them and went forward. He seemed to possess infinite reserves of patience when she refused him or purposely tried to bait and anger him, but his patience only made him seem more sinister. ‘It must be painful. . . " "Only three days," reiterated the widow, "three short short days,—and then all is over. "How old are you?" demanded Miss Prudence.
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