“There wasn’t. ” He consumed Irish stew for some moments. This species of madness cannot properly be attributed to his illness, though its accent might be. Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. 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. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. She tore open the envelope and read it. ‘Yes, I know. Our land brings us in nothing. Probably hadn't. She thought of all sorts of odd and desperate expedients, and with passionate petulance rejected them all. In reply to this summons a horn was instantly blown at the corner of the street.
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