You come to England, and hide in a secret convent in London. 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. He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. " She departed reluctantly. And now— I suppose I should be considered too old.
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