"At least I'll try," replied Jonathan, sarcastically. Immediately she had spoken of the loose button he knew that henceforth he must show no concern over the disposition of that coat. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. ’ She spread her hands. 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. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person.
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