He seemed to have shrunken in his seat. Don't strip me quite. Set on unravelling her secrets, Gerald pursues every possible clue—much to the indignation of Mademoiselle. I had gone further than I meant to—with some Englishmen. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. 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.
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