. ” “Just so,” the doctor remarked drily. "I was at Tyburn. 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. In some incomprehensible way that back view made her feel sorry for Alice. On the contrary. Awkwardly, he closed his eyes and fumbled for a kiss.
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