You must have repented a little, or you would not have done that. 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. To prevent the leaves from blowing about, should a blow develop, he distributed paper weights. . ” “You gave it him well. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten.
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