She was a swan among geese, trying to look plain and dowdy. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. " "I will yield it to no one but its mother," answered Wood.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQyLjExOS4xODUgLSAxNy0wNi0yMDI0IDEwOjM2OjE0IC0gMjA1MjE2NDUwNQ==
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