“It is Michelle, John. Her linen gown was soft against the heavy skins. 1. 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. She could not help but swoon a little. ” Lucy blinked from the winter sunlight and reached behind herself to yank at her hood.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMS4xOS4yNiAtIDE5LTA2LTIwMjQgMjI6Mzk6NDEgLSAxNjUzMTkzNzI3
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