‘What is this proof?’ ‘I will not tell you. He walked unsteadily towards the door. He rose slowly and extended it. “But I must, I will,” he answered fiercely. " "And why should you care whether she forgave you or not?" Spurlock jumped to his feet, the look of the damned upon his face. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. 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. ‘Would that your mistress were as trusting.
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