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“He naturally does not wish for connexions which are—I do not wish to hurt you feelings, Anna, but I must say it—not altogether desirable. Why do you not go away?’ ‘Yes, do go away,’ begged Gerald. ‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. Constance Widgett’s abundant copper-red hair was bent down over some dimly remunerative work—stencilling in colors upon rough, white material—at a kitchen table she had dragged up-stairs for the purpose, while on her bed there was seated a slender lady of thirty or so in a dingy green dress, whom Constance had introduced with a wave of her hand as Miss Miniver. ” Anna smiled very faintly, and shook her head. " "Very right, my love," said Wood, "very sensibly remarked. "I had no thought of injuring your wife, and would have died rather than commit so foul a crime. ” She took his hand and smiled upon him.
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