Certainly I cannot kill you if you tell me to do so. He stood before her. You won't refuse me, I'm sure; so no more need be said about the matter. 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. Amid this varied throng,—varied in appearance, but alike in character,—one object alone, we have said, rivetted Mrs. ‘Oh! little Vee!’ he cried, ‘little Vee!’ and put his face between his hands and sat still for a long time before he broke out again. I had a sort of idea,” he went on, “that you were starting life all over again, and it seemed awfully plucky.
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