Just as he had told Gerald would be the case, there was nothing of interest to hear, especially as he had met the girl in London only last night. Lucy had just began to invoke a solace where John was concerned, doing her best to shelve him as not so special after all. I told her I was sick today and she told me to get over myself. She was quite assured that she would never see him again. 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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