Forgive me, but you have been looking, have you not, for some employment?” “Quite true!” she answered. \"Good morning, Lucy\". “I have no wish,” he said, “to altogether ignore the fact that you are my wife’s sister, and have therefore a certain claim upon me. 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. Opals. ‘Kimble, you shouldn’t be here. Her sister had told him that it was true.
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