"She is in his power, and I am here, chained hand and foot, unable to assist her. He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. ‘Dare I suppose that to be of her making?’ Gerald flushed. ” “And what about this man—Mr. The Leads. 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. As time wore on, and they did not return, Mr.
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