She took it for granted Ann Veronica wore stays—mild stays, perhaps, but stays, and thought no more of the matter. No one spoke, and she was impelled to flounder on. 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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