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. ’ ‘But tell,’ demanded Melusine impatiently. It would be very good to be Capes’ friend. ’ Melusine’s instant annoyance must have shown in her face. There was only one prisoner in the ward. A row of magnificent, and even then venerable, elms threw their broad arms over this pleasant spot.
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