Not like my father. 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. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. "I never told anybody," she went on. You can test it out on us this Thanksgiving Sunday. " "You, Miss Enschede?"—frankly astonished that one stranger should offer succour to another. "Something is sure to arise in the course of the investigation, of which I can take advantage. If you do not find your aunt, my people will take you under wing until you can stand on your own.
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