I am sorry that I do not know any one in London. Before you go I'll give you a list of books to read. Another picture slid across her vision. 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. "Won't be under an obligation. “Ungracious little beast, I call her. ‘I told her you couldn’t have been flirting, but she wouldn’t believe me. At once.
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