“How could it not have hurt?” His analytical side started putting in overtime. 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. Rhea became alarmed that she was about to leave. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up.
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