” The tired woman sat still for a moment. You’re a piss-poor liar, John. “You must send for the police at once, you know. “I believe that you are quite safe. E. He gave her silence in return. 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. “Well, you know.
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