“The conventions do not matter one little bit. Until Leonardo. The knight stood upon his defence; but he would unquestionably have been torn in pieces by the savage hounds, if a shower of oaths, seconded by a vigorous application of kicks and blows from their master, had not driven them growling off. She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English. With trembling fingers she opened the post-bag. “Anna! What tragedy has happened, little sister? No lights, no supper, no coffee —and, above all, no Mr. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. Obviously he is still interested. 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. And when Mr.
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