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 chapel was situated in the old ballroom, and from there, down a few stairs, the vestry had taken the place of the pantry next to the kitchens. I have suffered all this. "I used to cry myself to sleep, Hoddy, I was so forlorn and lonely. Won’t you let me—can’t I be of any assistance?” He was obviously in earnest. He had a wild impulse to shout. “And even then—” The conversation hung for a thoughtful moment. Gazing at her with eyes blinded with tears, he imprinted one brotherly kiss upon her lips.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 05-07-2024 05:00:53
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