Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. “Perhaps you will not object to answering one for me. . Aided by an individual, who was acquainted with a secret outlet from the tenement, Darrell escaped. Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. ” He glared at Martin. 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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