“Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered. ‘This is altogether insupportable!’ She dug a hand into the recesses of the petticoat of her riding habit and a moment later Gerald found himself once again confronting the barrel of her overlarge and tarnished pistol. " So saying, he advanced towards the window, threw open the sash, and called out in the voice of Thames Darrell, "Who's there?" He was answered by a shot from a pistol. Sheppard, with a look, the wildness of which greatly alarmed her companion. 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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