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. But Gerald kept to a casual note. “In a sense—yes. Even he was not oblivious to it, and after about two minutes of awkward French kissing, he pulled away. ’ ‘That old fool? Why my brother kept him on I shall never know. Almost had Martha won out.
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