Gerald pressed against the wall, and signalled Roding to go to the other side of the door. 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. And now the fiend Gosse had taken even that away from her. Getting pregnant in high school ended that dream for her. This was his humiliation as well as hers. Groups of boys took to ogling her as she walked frenetically from class to class. " "Too proud, eh?" rejoined the prize-fighter.
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