” Lucy chuckled at the sacrilegious comment, though it was a very old one. 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. . The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. Ennison had disappeared. The day had become suddenly overcast.
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