But, let's see the prisoner. She gave tongue to the most urgent of her plaints. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth. Gwen made an inquiry, and, directed by Mrs. 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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