“So your father brought you here to live in the States?” John asked. So she went to Ramage and came to the point almost at once. She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning. 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. ‘And nor do I. "I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay. She advanced, stabbing at him. He sprung out of the driver’s side and ran to her door. .
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