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” Lucy looked at Michelle’s pretty face, rendered corpselike and frozen by unconsciousness. 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. Just as Jack gained the entrance, he heard a man's footstep behind him, and aware that the slightest indiscretion would betray him, he halted, uncertain what to do. . ’ She turned quickly away that her feelings might not be obvious to Lucy and her great-aunt.
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