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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. " "Never," said Mrs. An acute sense of living was in her veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical. “By God!” said Ann Veronica for the first time in her life. "Jack!" exclaimed Thames. Without Sheila, the denizens of the neighborhood might forget they had the ability to communicate with each other.
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