“That doesn’t touch the question I asked you,” she said. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. 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. She had never had a real doll. On their left the river, with its gloomy pile of buildings on the opposite side, and a huge revolving advertisement throwing its strange reflection upon the black water. Cheveney was another Paris friend, was he?” she asked. Miss Stanley hesitated, and took first one and then another of the constituents of this costume off its peg and surveyed it. But this afternoon it discovered an unusual vein of irritability in her. And you’d better have her fetch in some food for the missie, an’ all. “I should make sure that he doesn’t try to drive himself home.
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