She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. “You’re. ’ Gerald considered. 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. God bless you, anyhow!" she added, with a spontaneity which surprised Sister Angelina into uttering an individual gasp. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. I did not choose to mention my knowledge of this fact to your worthy father; but you may rely on its correctness.
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