9. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. “Why not? It might amuse me. Why? Here was a curtain indeed. 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. . The twenty pounds burned with avidity. "Tom," continued Kneebone, calling to the shop-boy, "don't go home. Don't you see they're putting on their cloaks?" "That's false!" rejoined Marvel, in a low tone; "I perceive what has taken place. " "I see.
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