’ ‘Of course she could not have known to whom they belonged. I want to know what you are doing; how you think this work of yours really does serve women. They embarked upon an open and declared friendship. 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. She entered the room in the shadows. “It is the same man, Annabel,” she said.
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