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. "Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. Once she stopped in front of a mirror and looked at herself thoughtfully. " The two boys, then, emerged upon the landing, and were about to descend the stairs, when the voices of Mr. “Do come and cheer me up. A familiar figure was making his way towards them. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips.
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