‘Typical. That window there…. Lucy followed. 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. “My father’s sisters used once to live in the old manor house. “Smirched!. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyNy4xMy4yMTkgLSAyOS0wNi0yMDI0IDAwOjQxOjQ0IC0gMTg3Mzc0MjMxNA==
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