Oh, you must believe me. She knew it was to be a long night, and her stomach turned with the knowledge that Cathy and Larry Beck would be waiting to pick her up after the questioning, which meant they would be up all night despite the fact they both had jobs to go to in the morning. 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. "No," answered Jack, approaching her, "though, if I had done so, he would have merited his fate. . In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. Bold women certainly existed in the Middle Ages--Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales is evidence of this--but meek women were probably the norm, good Christian family ladies who wanted nothing more than to serve God and have children. “I gave your name. The thing rankled in her mind night and day. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. I love. ” He said.
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