Joyous, she felt the need of physical expression; and her body began to sway sinuously, to glide and turn and twist about the room. Let’s have an advance round of applause for our concertmaster, 249 Lucy Albert!” Lucy was horrified. 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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