She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. "To-night you shall be my wedded wife. It seems to me exactly what is wanted. She lied. “By-the-bye,” he said, presently, “your sister was married to old Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t she? I saw the notice in the papers. "And now, to your own concerns. 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. I have just come from him. “I suppose Paris is very, very distracting. ” “Why not? Your spirits at least should be good. I need hardly say that your aunt joins with me very heartily in this request. ‘You could have fetched me home. “Promise. “Someone must have found it and taken good care of it.
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