It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. 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. ’ ‘Well, she didn’t walk through the walls, that’s certain,’ said Hilary acidly. ‘Jacques?’ she called. Wild," he added, as Jonathan came up, and assisted him to secure and disarm the prisoner.
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