I must provide for my safety. It was Annabel who caught at the paper. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. Don’t say the wretch was also following Valade. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. 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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