She covered herself with her arms. See what you have made of 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. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. Her faithful servant struggled, with her assistance, to rise. ‘It weren’t my wish, miss, I can tell you that. As absurd as that you take this interest in my affairs. "I'll make myself intelligible before I've done," rejoined Wild. She held out her hand frankly. Lucy was charmed; how peaceful the baby looked. "What the devil makes you out so late? And what has happened to you, man, eh?—you seem in a queer plight.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxNy4xNjkuNjggLSAxMC0wNi0yMDI0IDE5OjA2OjE3IC0gMTQ2MTQ3NjE5OA==
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