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. Which, let me assure you, villain, will not be so far away. He
remembered also, all at once, the very first words he had heard her speak: “I was
not born to this. "
"What villain?" cried Hogarth. Not about girls that I date. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn
object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. Manning. "But, though the storm has spared him, I will not. My nerves are shaken. What she
admired in her man was his resolute defense of his opinions. They laughed and talked and stared about them.
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