Even after this woman had gone, it seemed to Ruth that the room was kindlier than it had ever been. She was correct, and when I went directly to the street she had named, there you were, walking into the Butcher Shop. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. The gallows has groaned for him for years. 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. When my father died, and we were left alone in Jersey, I was quite a long time deciding whether I would go in for singing professionally or try painting. The doctor's smile is singular; there is no other smile that reaches the same level.
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