So, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed. Compared to most of America, you’re rich. I don't know; I really don't know," she found herself repeating. “It is from his brother in Paris. “Mr. " "And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend. Told you how it would be. That would be an unkind twist of fate. "It's 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.
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