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. ‘You’re speaking the truth. There was still in his heart that fierce anger which demands physical expression; but he had to consider Ruth in all phases. Then she turned, and entering the inner room, commenced to dress hastily for the street. For the first time a definite doubt possessed him. He was a stranger. Her own pack was so light that she left it in the locker. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. “Cheveney!” she repeated. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. What she said is true. CHAPTER I. Melusine gritted her teeth. ” He began. But the objects in his range of vision remained unchanged.
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