He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. “Now, there, there. 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. Always I have said I will take care of myself, and I have done so. In one grave, mind.
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