“It hasn’t GOT a throat!” Part 7 One day the idea of self-sacrifice came into her head, and she made, she thought, some important moral discoveries. She knew that the next time he caught her she would not be able to free herself. 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 seemed to be thinking hard. He must preserve it, however, as they preserved the Ark of the Covenant. He went over her features one by one in his mind.
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