Kneebone. 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. Primarily it was
her own problem, and in particular the answer she had to give to Mr. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently
forgotten for the moment. “Everybody
seems to have it now. ”
“We will go to a very quiet place,” he assured her, “a place where I have often
taken my own sisters. “I don’t see quite what your game is, Vee,
but I suppose you’ve got a game on somewhere. ‘Now see here, missie. There was nothing to be got out of the man. “Has he accused any one yet?”
“Not yet,” he answered. Miss Klegg raised the question of women’s suffrage, and he set
himself to provoke a duel between her and Miss Garvice. My last foster father in Alabama before the Becks was a
heavy drug abuser.
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This video was uploaded to oktirestore.info on 06-07-2024 02:23:24