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. Toys! Delicate trifles! A sex of invalids. " "But what is it?" "An American university. He kissed her cheek. The house was full of aunts, uncles, and cousins meandering about, stuffed until their seams and zippers were bursting. I told him Valade had tried to borrow money off me and asked if he could vouch for the fellow. ” He left at once, immensely relieved, yet scarcely satisfied with himself as regarded his share of the interview with this young woman.
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