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"Where to, master?" asked Ben, touching his woollen cap. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from
its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial
incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. ‘Why,
you have heard yourself all that is being said. “I wonder what he takes me for?”
When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict,
a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. 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.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 24-06-2024 14:54:01