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 is not in the least like the descriptions of her. Things were thrown here and there, to be taken up, or again cast aside, as the whim arose; while the broken-backed chairs and crazy table bore the marks of many a conflict. Gosse, if he had any sense, would immediately seek out the Remenham lawyers. ’ ‘Your groom? What for?’ ‘Get him to wait outside. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. There was a fourth story; but he never told either Ruth or McClintock about this. ” “Did it hurt when we did it?” His voice rose, inflamed with worry. She knew that the next time he caught her she would not be able to free herself. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words.
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