" "I am here in Canton," she replied, simply. "That depends upon you. 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 promise to ask no more. The chief influence was her awakening sense of the need of money. Ha!" exclaimed the stranger, as shouts and other vociferations resounded at no great distance along the thoroughfare, "not a moment is to be lost. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. The meat was coarse and disagreeably served. Posts were offered to all who chose to accept them. You are to come home. I sent a message straight. “Hello, Gwen!” said Ann Veronica, trying to put every one at their ease. ’ ‘No, perhaps not,’ Gerald agreed with a smile. " A deep indignant groan followed.
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