After all, life had still its pulsations. “Thank you, ma’am. Good heavens! She was discussing love-making. 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. ‘For instance, why have you reverted to your nun’s habit for this particular adventure?’ ‘That is easy. Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face. ” “It was behind the Place de Vendome, on the other side from the Ritz.
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