It dealt with fine aspects of Mr. 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 came to London, and tried several things without any success. " "May be," returned the man gravely. Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts. Miss Stanley had determined from the outset to have the warmest affection for her youngest niece and to be a second mother in her life—a second and a better one; but she had found much to battle with, and there was much in herself that Ann Veronica failed to understand. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged.
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