” “Did I?” she said. He took her there on the cold, dirty floor, his nails digging into her back, his teeth sinking into her breasts. 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. Phillips Oppenheim *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA THE ADVENTURESS *** ***** This file should be named 26596-h.
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