Morgan the trader did not haggle over the pearls, but gave me at once what he judged a fair price. 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. Wood among them?" asked Jack, eagerly. And immeasurable was the calm evolved from this knowledge.
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