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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. She barely heard a word that Martin or Brown said, until Martin’s voice chimed. McClintock, coming from below, saw them and went forward. It filled his thoughts for the rest of the day, and became an obsession.
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This video was uploaded to live-sport.live on 07-07-2024 17:11:39
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