‘That would have grieved Jarvis. " "May I trust you?" cried Thames, eagerly. . ” “All right. 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. That won’t involve references, as a bank account would—and all that sort of thing. Yes, of course.
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