But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. “So you’re the one my son has been talking about. I do not wish to blow off a head, you understand. "Once in this chair, yer hon'r, and I'll warrant he'll not get out so aisily as Jack Sheppard did from the New Pris'n. 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. Her recent attitude towards him was undoubtedly a pose. To use it as a passport to card-tables and gin-bottles! McClintock wasn't having any guests; at any rate, he had not mentioned the fact. "Ja," answered Van; "at a minut's nodish.
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