After the first courses however she scarcely noticed him. 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. It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. Clotilde flew into a rage, crying, “How dare you lay claim to my children! I am their mother! This is a Godless house!” She accused. "She may yet be saved. The man was mad to marry me. Immediately he grasped the fact that there was drama here, probably the old drama of the fugitive. "In Canton. There was nothing to be learned from her face. She did not have the power of men.
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