‘I do not know how you think you may help me,’ she said slowly. 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. And this is not France, you understand. Could she go through with it? She must. He smiled. "Nothing you can say to the contrary will convince me that you have not been accessory to his flight. He said nothing, even though it was not raining. ’ ‘Pah!’ ‘Precisely.
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