She looked at him confusedly, his black hair glinting under the dim lights. “Bring any new songs you may have. Jack affected to close the door, but left it slightly ajar. 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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