It has been proved. Part 2 Ann Veronica Stanley was twenty-one and a half years old. 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. "Do me the favour to seat yourself, Jack," said Sir James. She washed her face twice after making smudgy eyeshadow and lipstick errors. Another horseman followed quickly at the heels of the first; but just as he passed the spot where Jack stood, his steed missed its footing, and fell.
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