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. So strongly was he impressed with this idea, that grasping the iron bar with both hands, he dashed it furiously against the door, making the passage echo with the blows. As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door. Give me the keys and the light. ’ ‘And she’d be right,’ Martha said severely. ” “I like Constance very much. "I give it to King James—not so you: for the furtherance of a great and holy cause, not for the prosecution of wild and unprofitable schemes. She had thought to wear it now, since she must look more the demoiselle. ’ A sudden frown sprang to the fellow’s face.
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