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. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. ‘You’ve found her out?’ ‘Tell us at once,’ urged Miss Froxfield. ‘Ah, no,’ Gerald uttered at once, lowering his voice and infusing it with all the promise he could command. But perhaps you don't know; there was nothing in the pockets. I am going to ask him to finish it. Was this the right moment? After what she had said about Jarvis Remenham’s habits, he could do with more information before he revealed his purpose. He sent me home. Gerald at once rid himself of his own glass and leapt to her assistance. This had well nigh been the case with the carpenter.
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