What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly. 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. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. After feasting his eye upon this superb panorama, he was about to return, when he ascertained from a farmer that his nearest road to Willesden would be down a lane a little further on, to the right. Gerald hoped he had covered all options and had resisted the temptation to pay mademoiselle a visit.
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