” He meditated. “I was half hoping that I might be allowed to see you home. Now that she was his, to make or mar, she presented an extraordinary fascination. 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. Moments later, the movie began its gory climax, bass vibrating the seats with great bombast. Traci was the most grateful, because he stopped his sexual advances. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone.
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