But in that reservation it may be she went a little beyond the converse of his view. “Steady on!” he cried. She found an old drunk wandering the streets. A deadly sickness came over her, the room seemed spinning round. He came as an agreeable diversion from an insoluble perplexity. 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.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ1LjE0NS4xNTAgLSAwMy0wNi0yMDI0IDA1OjA0OjQ4IC0gNDUxMTg2MTMz
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