His initial nervousness had already abated, and it took some valour to allow himself to become embroiled in Melusine’s crazy schemes. 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. Nothing could exceed the dismay of these personages when they learnt why they had been summoned. "Put about, waterman, for God's sake!" cried Wood, whose humanity got the better of every personal consideration; "some one is overboard. Have you thought of the monstrous lie you are adding to your theft?" "Lie?" said Spurlock, astounded. “They have just taken this house from Lady Cellender. She breathed deeply. " "Don't mention such a thing, Sir," interrupted the tapstress.
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