I’m damaged goods. 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. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one. Maggot, dealing him a buffet that sent him reeling several yards backwards. “I know. ” Lucy shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. " "You can give me a little of his history, can't you? Something about his people?" "Oh, his folks were all right. She had never had a real doll. You are always doing something for nothing, and that is why I love you. He kissed her lightly on the lips. ” “Your ideas of fairness—” he remarked, and discontinued that sentence. “I never saw Courtlaw with her—never heard her speak of him. Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery.
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