. 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 I have a very good mind to kill you. "Shall I help you on with it, Sir?" replied the Jew, becoming suddenly respectful. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. “My child, I do not wish. ” And she pressed her lips together in white resolution and nodded, and she was manifestly full of that same passion for conflict and selfsacrifice that has given the world martyrs since the beginning of things. But an individual she never laid eyes on day before yesterday! And the minute he gets up, he'll head for the public bar. Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said.
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