” She replied. 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. Pale, flesh-colored light filtered in through the corners of the house. A good deal of the food will be in tins. ‘What can I do, miss?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ cried Melusine. I suppose an intelligent person OUGHT to be interested in political affairs. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped.
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