” She found it difficult to begin thinking, and indeed she was anything but clear what it was she had to think about. 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. "Married!—no—no," replied the woollen-draper. “You are my friend,” she said, “if any one is. You dear, dear girl. ‘Give me that!’ He took his finger away from her neck and made a grab at the handkerchief. Earles closed the piano with a little bang. . How different were his present feelings compared with those he had experienced on quitting it. John finally wrested her away from the company of his parents, insisting that he wanted to take a walk in the park before it was completely dark. She knew that I cared for her, she had admitted that she cared for me. “I am bored,” she said abruptly.
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