As you near the entrance to a shadowy alley, you hear a woman’s voice begging in the darkness: ‘Alms for a poor widow, young sirs?’ A decrepit old woman hobbles into the light, her features harsh, her face haggard and drawn. She repeats her plaintive cry: ‘Will you spare a coin for a poor widow’s needs?’
If you wish to stop and question her, turn to 265.
If you wish to ignore her and continue on your way, turn to 388.