"Off with you to Newgate!" cried Jack, "and don't let him out till you get inside the Lodge. 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. ‘I cannot possibly shoot a lady, you know. ’ ‘Had the advantage of her this time,’ Roding put in before Gerald could respond.
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