\"Cool. This woman, contrary to his custom, he answered. It was partly to pay a grudge he had against father. ” He nodded twice, with his eyes on the fire, as though that was a formal statement. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. ’ ‘Indeed, I’m beginning to think so,’ he said ruefully. 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.
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