“They would spoil every chance. . She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. 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. "See how glad he is!" His irony and displeasure subsided. Sister Angelina shook her head as if to say that such ignorance was beyond her. I said I’d make shirts.
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