Is this a reason?’ ‘Not good enough? Now I had every hope that it would appeal to you. ” “Why can’t you take me with you?” He begged. 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. Wood. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead.
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