‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. "That is very kind of you, but I am on my way to America. “I have been very selfish,” she declared. ” She nodded. I mean my cut-offs and boots. 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. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something.
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