“You must tell me the truth, and I will see that no harm comes to you. And because he knew it was a burden, there was no gaiety upon the doctor's face; neither was there speech on his tongue. 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. “Before this there was a sort of restraint—a make-believe. F. Oh, cuss it!” “Eh?” “He said I would. . All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. ’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen.
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