Detached, it was not impossible that she would be forced to leave the dining room because of invading tears. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. She kept trying to shut her legs, to stop the baby from coming out. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. "Stay!" cried Wood, "this is a most perplexing business—if you really are privy to the affair——" "We'll talk of it to-morrow, Sir," returned Jackson, cutting him short. A farthing candle, stuck in a bottle neck, shed its feeble light upon the table, which, owing to the provident kindness of Mr. ‘Even the nuns they say I am like a devil.
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