“Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. In spite of all this, he grew daily better and stronger, and his spirits revived. And, though the villain can't see his orders executed, I've no doubt some one else will. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. "Then it is not too late to save him. 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.
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