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. Jack was in excellent spirits; and by his wit, drollery and agreeable demeanour, speedily became a great favourite with the turnkey, who allowed him every indulgence consistent with his situation. She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. She had gladly lowered her eyes as she had been instructed to in front of the fine ladies and lords, as she was more interested in their clothing and fripperies than their faces. " "What is it?" "That you give 'em to me. Wait, though. I’d do anything, Vee. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. It’s that father of yours you take after, no question. He’s the handle of life for you. She was trembling a little. I know something about men. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. " "But that style isn't Oriental. A dissipated, loose-living man.
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