He seemed to know a great deal about life. 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. “Idiots!” she said, when she heard this pandemonium, and with particular reference to this young lady with the throaty contralto next door. 2. While you live in my house you must follow my ideas. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room.
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