As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms. \" Michelle said. ‘Certainly you must have seen her. But she had loved the man. Let’s face it, she hates Missy’s guts. 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.
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