She had spent a day in Gretna Green when she had been jilted, rightfully so, for the guilt and shame she felt for even establishing any sort of relationship with a man not nearly long enough after the death of her husband. That was a story for the books, and that was all she wrote. For the moment, she was sitting between two baskets, one babe in each basket. Karen's face was a mask of serenity, though if one looked closely, they might catch a glimpse of eyes that glittered with an... almost feverish look.

However, when approached by a man who spoke in that same manner as her Harold, she could not look up. The Irishwoman smiled politely even still, and gave a gentle wave to welcome him to the seat in question. The gesture was brief, for she returned her hand to the belly of the babe in the right hand basket. Her eyes averted, then, she opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out, so she closed her mouth and simply nodded in an awkward way.

Then she looked out the window and bit her lip, color filling her cheeks in chagrin more than shyness.