Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection. 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. Listen to me, Winifred. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. ‘I know what it means, numbskull! Didn’t spend years in the confounded country without picking up some of their infernal tongue. They bickered frequently now as Gianfrancesco protested the prices of things like funeral candles and poultices to comfort the dying.
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