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1. 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. " She departed reluctantly. But if he speaks—I fear what he may tell. He kissed her at the door. ‘You! Tell this fool who is the keeper here to come to me at once. There must be something we can do. . "Your hesitation convinces me he does," replied the widow. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. . " "Thieves!" exclaimed Mrs. He opened the door for her with a faint disagreeable smile.
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