” “Is my sister’s Christian name, then, of so much importance to you?” she asked with a faint smile. S. 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 gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. "Would you rather be alone?" "No. Huge trees obscured the view of it. " "I see. ” Annabel yawned. " "Mr. Giles! "Devil seize the woman!" growled the singer, as he brought his ditty to a close; "will nothing tempt her out? Widow Sheppard, I say," he added, rising, "don't be afraid. ’ She frowned suddenly. ‘Come along. You don’t have to live forever to understand that.
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