’ ‘Not if you want one of good family, no,’ he agreed mildly. F. She seemed honestly glad to see him. 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. It had been her home for hundreds of years. You have taken my dagger.
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