‘Never mind that now. " Sister Prudence looked at Sister Angelina, who understood what was expected of her. She had remained patently unavailable to him. 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. “I wonder if I’ve been properly brought up. You never can go back. People always rejoice at the misfortunes of others—never at their own! The droll dogs! how they must have enjoyed it!—ha! ha!" "I dare say they did. He's a hundred miles sou'-east of me.
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