“I’ve been thinking of you all night,” she answered. So Mrs. 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. " A shadow, which was not cast by the jib, fell upon them both. She was thinking fast now, all her senses on the alert. Dunster shall fetch you a cab. ‘Go and fetch her home,’ he said; ‘it isn’t what we thought! It’s just a practical joke of hers. I freely forgive you. He was by no means certain that she would not in fact attempt to blow off his head as she had threatened.
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