. “Oh. But leave me here in my home, child, I will disintegrate if I am exposed. . ’ Lucilla burst into laughter and clapped her hands. ‘Went to the dogs, did Jarvis, after Mary died. 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 has not the power—perhaps not the will to do so.
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