Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. " "Oh! he told you that, did he?" said Blueskin, marching up to her, and chucking her under the chin. Besides, it was under false pretences. 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. I was at work at it yesterday and the day before.
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