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. “The next question, Miss Anna,” he said, “is how am I to help you? I am wholly at your disposal. We were expecting rather to find a male antagonist. "You'll find him at St.
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