The woman I wanted was another man's wife. He could lose himself for hours at a time. Pews had been brought in and set in two rows before the huge table, covered in white cloth, that formed the altar at the far end. ” “Well, he was presumptuous,” Annabel remarked, “and he wasn’t nice about it. " "Oh! let me die," groaned the widow. 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.
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