He would repeat them innumerable times, and patiently Ruth would repeat her answers. “About two years ago. Upon this topic Capes was heavy and conscientious, but that seemed to her to be just exactly what he ought to be. Haven’t I shown you over and over again that I mean you no harm? What do I have to do?’ ‘You can go away and leave me to my affairs,’ she threw at him. 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. Somebody to whom she would be necessary, who for days would have to depend upon her for the needs of life. He had gained admission somehow, and he too was waiting for Anna.
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