’ Melusine swung away and moved to stare dully out of the window of the little chapel vestry onto the mews outside. They did not spend most days together. 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. .
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