She calmed herself, breathing deeply. “Do you see why you cannot survive in the world without me? The world is full of mundane things, Lucia, but it is also full of terrible things. Anna stared back at every one with undaunted composure. 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. If hopeless love for her made me a robber, it has also saved me many a crime. ‘Poor things. ‘Parbleu, you waste time.
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