“She will take her risk,” she answered. ‘I begin to ask myself why it is that I wish to become of these people. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. There is strength in you— misguided. Life is so good. ’ She eyed him, all her uncertainty surfacing. Submission to the inevitable carried her through the circumstances of her appearance before the magistrate. . 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. She bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house. He did not like it.
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