‘Gone!’ he said. "Ah!" exclaimed Lady Trafford, exerting all her strength. ’ Roding started. Until the last moment she was afraid. 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. “Here,” he said, “is this Blau See, and here we rest until to-morrow. ’ She was backing across the room, moving towards the screen. “Mid-thirties. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country.
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