” He stuttered. " The hint was not lost upon Wood. 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. "Yes; he'll suspect nothing. Brutes! They are the brute still with us! Science some day may teach us a way to do without them. He broke his arms in two places and several bones in his right hand. The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents.
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