They were the only real marriages she had seen clearly. ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought. She parted the curtains to find him standing 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. ’ ‘Ah, but why remain penniless? After all, your grandfather Charvill—’ ‘Again with the grandfather? Mon ami, if you imagine that this grandfather will welcome a daughter of Nicholas Charvill, whom he has never forgiven that he married a Frenchwoman, then you have an imagination entirely wrong. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. ‘You know perfectly well that she is the daughter of the Comtesse de St Erme. “But—your people!” she gasped. Andrew's church, the bell of which was tolling, was covered with spectators.
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