And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. It suited him to dampen the spirits of any who sought to impose upon him, as these relics of the loathed family of Valade seemed like to do. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. “We’re going to be found out someday. 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. You will find the proof in McClintock's safe. Before Jonathan followed he turned to face his assailants. It doesn’t matter. “I can only repeat what I said before,” she declared. Also she remembered very vividly the smell of orange blossom, and Alice, drooping and spiritless, mumbling responses, facing Doctor Ralph, while the Rev. ‘And you mean this? Truly?’ ‘Entirely. She dreaded leaving him for the night, but separated herself finally. He could not make good his hold. Suddenly she understood.
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