And we won’t make it so. The Disguise 261 VI. “I have a letter for you, and no end of messages. A few more minutes, and she was safe. . 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. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. His sword then came in for his scrutiny: he felt at, and appeared satisfied with its edge.
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