The foremost, tall, clean-shaven, perfectly groomed, half extended his hand with a smile of recognition. ‘It must be painful. "Perhaps. 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. All its better points were improved, while the less attractive ones (and they were few in comparison) were subdued, or removed.
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