’ ‘The what, miss?’ asked Kimble, frowning. From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere. That is why I am here. C. ’ ‘I dare say you do,’ said the general, grim satisfaction overtaking his anger as his prophesy proved accurate. 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.
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