"Are you hurt, Thames?" asked Jack, anxiously. Yet she took with her an uneasy consciousness that in this affair might lie the germs of future trouble. I spoke a thought aloud. "A secret is too valuable a commodity to be thrown away. ‘For instance, why have you reverted to your nun’s habit for this particular adventure?’ ‘That is easy. So Mrs. 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. So far as I'm concerned, nothing could please me more.
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