He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. 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. “Oh dear, I’m not dressed. Still, one never could tell. “Lucy, you have to play for us after dinner, oh please. She held out the foil. The joke of it is that he’s married to her now, and cuts me dead. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. It was equally as beautiful but not quite so fine as the daughter's. "There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. ‘It is to say goodbye, you understand.
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