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. When I gave him an invitation to supper, I little thought he'd accept it. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. He had, for the most part, been correct. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. It won't do to knock at the door, and Jonathan Wild's house is not quite so easy of entrance as Mr. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. Good night. org.
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