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She wasn’t well-liked really, I think people were jealous of her. 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. There would be no way of keeping her police questioning a secret from the entire neighborhood. He made a movement toward her, and then recalled the circumstances of their last conversation in that study. " "You needn't trouble yourself," replied Thames. Sebastian returned to find her blood dripping into the crucible.
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