She heard him crash against it, and turned the key in the lock. 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's safe enough now. Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind. ’ ‘That’s better. “Time for my Patience,” she said. " "Stop!" cried Jonathan, who did not care to push matters too far, "let me have a word with you, Mr. Wood's reception of the widow, who, at that moment, was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encouraging.
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