Kneebone, then, sat down to await the arrival of his expected guest. Ennison too, always handsome and debonnair, seemed transported out of his calm self. ’ ‘In a way she had been,’ said Prudence. 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. It was that somebody had cheated you.
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