She felt as if she had struck them unawares. The misty caravans of which she had dreamed were become actualities. 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. A day will come when you will thank me. ‘Gerald had to change both shirt and breeches. ’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. It did seem germane to the matter that so many of the people “in the van” were plain people, or faded people, or tired-looking people.
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