. 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. At least for one moment, it was. "I've known him all my life," replied the other. He had very nearly cleared the board, when a knock was heard below, and descending at the summons, he found his two janizaries. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back.
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