But if not himself, there would be another soon enough. “Heavens!” she exclaimed. Norris, she revived a little. "There is nobody else. 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 would have to move on to a more lawless country soon, Mexico, Columbia, then cross the sea where she could eventually return to the chaos of Eastern Europe and the Russias. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered.
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