F. " The walls were covered with racks of loaded rifles. ‘Something wrong, madame?’ Her fan came up swiftly, hiding the lower part of her face. 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.
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