He even hugged her a few times, something he had never done. 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. I’m not sure if Janine cared. I'll be wanting my sixteen thousand. And if she was ever found living in the area like that, homeless, John could somehow find out. " "No. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence.
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