She was greatly exercised by the problem of confiding in the Widgetts; they were dears, and she talked away two evenings with Constance without broaching the topic; she made some vague intimations in letters to Miss Miniver that Miss Miniver failed to mark. “And think of the ordinary wives and mothers, with their anxiety, their limitations, their swarms of children!” Mr. Pale, flesh-colored light filtered in through the corners of the house. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. This was enough for the poor widow. “This party must be so boring for you. We have him as safe as a linnet in a cage; and could wring his neck round as easily.
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