” Miss Stanley reflected as Ann Veronica went toward the house. Their expression was so amiable, that it would have redeemed a countenance a thousand times plainer than hers. Ten thousand steeds appeared to be trampling aloft, charged with the work of devastation. . So far the thing was acceptable enough. The terrific mental tension of the past few months —that had held his bodily nourishment in a kind of strangulation—became as a dream; and now his vitals responded rapidly to food and air. “Never mind, old chap,” he declared. Confound this slavery of sex! I am a man! I will get this under if I am killed in doing it!” She scowled into the cold blacknesses about her. ‘Sapristi,’ he shouted angrily. 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. “May I enquire,” he asked smoothly, “in what way my appearance contributes to your amusement? If there is a joke I should like to share it.
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