‘Do that again,’ he said softly, ‘and I’ll make you sorry you ever came to England. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. She had never had a real doll. 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. She smiled and started for the stairs without reply. The job is easy. He put his arms around her in a circular embrace. Her thought spoke aloud. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. Doesn’t matter a bit to me. The kindly American consul-general had himself taken her to the bank, where her banknotes had been exchanged for a letter of credit, and had thoroughly advised her. You are doing your best to break our friendship.
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