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. Luck. And for my part, if I were inclined to exercise my benevolence at all, it should be in favour of some more deserving object than that whining, hypocritical Magdalene. ’ Gerald infused sympathy into his voice, and deliberately addressed himself to Madame. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. Even if you were sick in the mind and did not understand what you were doing, it's a mighty cruel thing you have done.
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