He rather liked the "sir"; it signified both gratefulness and the chastened spirit. Upon this young fellow's face there were no wrinkles, only shadows, in the hollows of the cheeks and under the eyes. 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. "Gentlemen, a little further off, if you please. "I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily. “I wonder—I wonder if we shall ever get like that. He flipped the television on. Or become a thorough-going typist and stenographer and secretarial expert. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack.
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