Gerald, intent on his trail, ignored it. Two of these had been her particular intimates at the High School, and had done much to send her mind exploring beyond the limits of the available literature at home. 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. I didn't mean it. I want you to think of me just as if I was a man, and quite outside marriage altogether.
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