“It’s bound to be all right,” she said. ‘Melusine. 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. ’ Hilary’s brows shot up. That bruise will answer the same purpose. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. “I don’t think you realize,” Ann Veronica began again, “that I am rather a defective human being.
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