Folks don’t like ’em. 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. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. Here goes. my first symphony!” Brown’s eyebrows rose skeptically. 1.
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