” “Yes. "Alone?" "Not exactly, Sir. She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. It was shameful, but again, her mother had prepared her for it. I am safe while I am there, for I have had bolts fitted everywhere, and a pane of glass in the front door. ” “So it would have been at the English Embassy,” Courtlaw answered, “but the place to which you went was not the English Embassy. 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. The houses loomed progressively larger as one strode up the block, growing from ranch to two-story, from squat 1950's modern to stately 1890's palace.
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