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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. . They walked two by two to the car, looking the part of 267 two weary spouses supporting their drunken mates after an all-night bender. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions. "I have saved the executioner a labour, by cutting his throat," replied Blueskin.
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