He flipped the television off. 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 is setting out for Hartford, Connecticut. On the north stood the battlements of one of the towers of the gate. . But she doesn’t and won’t divorce me.
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